


knives don't have your back

by turnyourankle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - College/University, American AU, Crime Fighting, Crimes & Criminals, Explicit Sexual Content, Investigations, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mystery, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Serial Killers, Suspense, but if people would like me to change to the archive warnings let me know, criminology/journalism student louis, no one dies during the fic, sleep paralysis, so i'm not sure how to tag this, there is NO gun violence in this fic, there's some descriptions of violence but nothing too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 51,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnyourankle/pseuds/turnyourankle
Summary: The lone survivor of an on campus massacre that claimed the lives of his four housemates, Harry is urged to take a sabbatical or transfer. Instead, he chooses to stay in school, move into the dorms, and overcome his fears.He finds comfort in a budding friendship with Louis, an upperclassman who lives on his floor, not realizing that their relationship will bring him closer to his traumatizing past rather than further from it.[formerly titled 'run me like a river']





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very self-indulgent piece of writing that I'm very proud of, but I have no idea how others might receive it. So let me know if you like it, I guess? 
> 
> Many thanks to [A](http://lostboysoflondon.tumblr.com/) for the beta. Any remaining errors are my own. I've done my best to be as factually accurate as possible, but I'm sure some errors have slipped through here and there.
> 
>  **Some additional warnings:** As I mentioned in the tags there are some descriptions of violence (I think that should be a given considering the topic but better safe than sorry). I don't think they're all too graphic but if you want me to change the warnings I will. And there's also a description of a panic attack and an instance of sleep paralysis. I personally don't really think anything is too bad but I'd rather err on the side of caution so there you have it.

They all expected that Harry would leave.

If not the university, then campus at least. 

Which is why despite all promises to accommodate him however he wished to proceed, the Dean still blinked in shock at Harry’s request to stay in school and on campus for the semester. He didn’t try to control his frown, lip bitten as he clicked away on his computer and called in his secretary for assistance.

“Are you sure? There’d be no academic repercussions if you choose to withdraw now. We’d be happy to recommend you to other programmes, or give you a gap year, whatever you deem best,” the Dean said. 

“I’m sure.” 

“Have you discussed this with your family?” He asked, his tone pleading and somewhat judgmental. As if Harry was incapable of making his own decisions. 

Yes. Of course Harry had discussed it with his family. And they didn’t agree with him. Which is exactly why he’d come to see the Dean on his own. Because he knew that if his mom were next to him she’d try to convince him again. That Robin would side with the Dean and suggest he transfer to a school closer to home. Gemma would most likely start shouting at him that he was being a moron, that he was going to fuck himself up by staying; that it was survivor’s guilt talking.

But Harry knew that if he left now, he’d never come back. And he couldn’t run away from this. Besides, the police had asked him not to leave the state until their investigation was over. And he wanted to be as much help as possible. 

The Dean’s face was drawn when he said goodbye, he undoubtedly wasn’t pleased that this wasn’t the last he’d see of Harry. Harry was quite certain that the entire faculty wanted him gone. As if getting rid of him would allow them to wipe the slate clean. 

He got a call later that night that there was a dorm room available to him if he still wanted to stay. Apparently the mass exodus of students after the massacre had left a large amount of beds unoccupied. He confirmed that he wanted to stay, yet again, and accepted the offer.

They drove over to the dorm the next morning, his mom tearing up as soon as Harry shuffled his belongings into the small room. It was rectangular, with a bolted down desk and the tiniest closet he’d ever seen. 

“Not much of a view,” Robin remarked as he looked out the window. It overlooked a parking lot a floor down. Harry’s old place had a view of their backyard where a flourishing apple tree and a small garden resided. Where the promise of barbecues and reading sessions in the grass had won him over. Now, the thought of the backyard made him shudder; the only memories he could muster up tainted by yellow tape and a painful stab in his arm. 

“All the better for studying,” Harry said, and unpacked his laptop, dropping his bags of clothes onto the single bed.

His mom didn’t speak, hands shaking as she opened up his bag and started hanging up his clothes in the small closet.

“Mom, you don’t have to,” he said, hand dropping to her shoulder. She squeezed it before pulling him away.

“It’s all I can do, dear, please.” 

Gemma stood in the doorway, watching with a stern expression. She refused to lift a finger. But even without her help Harry was unpacked quickly. Most of his belongings were still being held by the police. Still being dusted for prints and sprayed for traces. 

Harry repressed a shudder at the thought.

The police said he’d be getting the rest of his stuff back as soon as they’d been processed and deemed useless for the case. Harry wasn’t even sure he even wanted any of it anymore. 

“Do you want to come back to the hotel for dinner?” His mom asked, and Gemma rolled her eyes. “You could stay with us one more night, really, I don’t want you to be alone.”

“I need to settle in here. Get things back to normal.”

Gemma snorted.

“Gemma, please,” Robin said.

“We’re pretending like things can go back to normal? Right. God, no wonder you’re all fucked.” 

His mom’s face crumpled, and Robin pulled her in for a hug. But Gemma was right. They couldn’t quite pretend like things were normal anymore. They were still in suspension. But Harry couldn’t live with the tears and the panic; couldn’t risk them making a permanent home in his throat. With his mom’s too long hugs, and the way Robin called him ‘son’ with pain in his voice. The way Gemma was lashing out at the cops who were of little help.

It was bad enough that he had to worry about how his family was feeling, unable to focus on himself. He needed space.

There was a tearful goodbye, much worse than the one when Harry had left for college to begin with. He was starting to suspect every goodbye would be like this from now on. Strangled words and glassy eyes. Hugs that ended up with fingers gripping the back of his shirts, so tightly the fabric wrinkled.

Robin promised that they’d stop by before leaving town the next day, and Harry acknowledged it with a nod. One more goodbye. 

He couldn’t wait for his family to leave so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Which caused him a stab of guilt, dark and heavy in his gut. But he couldn’t take care of them, which is what it felt like he was doing. Constantly reassuring them that he was okay. It was exhausting. 

As soon as they left he collapsed onto the bed, nerves frayed and limbs heavy. This was his home now. Or, well, for the rest of the school year at least.

He tried to train himself out of what-ifs, but he couldn’t help but think that things would have been different if he’d stayed in the dorms to begin with. 

It was an unwanted thought, and it made him cringe. He mentally slapped himself for it. The only person who would’ve been spared would be him. The murders would still have happened, even if he hadn’t been living in the co-op. He just wouldn’t have been around for them. In fact, maybe the person who would’ve had Harry’s room wouldn’t have been as lucky as he was. Maybe they would’ve been killed, too.

Instead, he’d be just like the other students, gawking and morbidly curious as to what happened. Panicked, perhaps. Would he have wanted to leave school if he hadn’t been directly involved? The thought made his fingers prick. 

He squeezed his eyes shut hard enough that spots appeared behind his eyelids, bile rising up in his throat. One deep breath and another, he eked them out until his chest hurt. 

The dorm was quiet, and the walls were thin. He could hear steps outside his door and his heart beating against his ribs. It sped up as the steps came closer. They could be coming for him, right now. They could be right outside his door. He trained his eyes on the door handle, expecting it to turn as someone tried to get in. He was certain he locked it, but he couldn’t get rid of the image in his head. 

A knock echoed into the room and he sat up in a panic. 

He didn’t _actually_ expect the person to be coming to his room.

It was just a knock. No one knocks if they’re going to kill you. That’s not how it works. 

He got up and opened the door, controlling his trembling fingers. He had a baseball bat in his other hand, prepared to attack if the person on the other side tried to hurt him.

It was a girl with a bright smile and a high ponytail. She wore sweats and a hoodie, and had slight circles under her eyes.

“Hi! So, I thought I’d introduce myself, I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. ‘M Jesy, the RA for this floor.”

She stuck out her hand to shake his, and he obliged.

“Hi, I uh-- Just moved in.” He wasn’t sure how much she’d been told about his situation, but he wasn’t going to share any more than necessary.

“Yeah! I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier to help out, I was just told. I think they’re trying to fill up the empty rooms but they’re not having much luck. I’m glad you’re here though! Trinity is the best dorm, I swear. And I’m not just saying that because I’m the RA.” She winked at him, tilting her head as she did. “Although our floor is the best.”

He tried to drop the bat without making a sound, and relaxed his grip around the door frame. Jesy seemed far too perky to know why he was there. He smiled back at her, trying to make it look as genuine as possible. 

“That’s good to know.”

“You’ve missed most of the ‘get to know you’ activities, obviously, but like. Well. A lot of people left so it’s not that big of a loss.” She wrinkled her nose as she spoke. 

She didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that the reason there were empty spots in the dorm was because four university students had been killed less than a week ago and their killer hadn’t been caught yet.

Or, maybe she was bothered, and just hid it better than everyone else. 

“But! I’m still doing biweekly mixers in the common room and--” She paused. “Do you need a tour? I’m sorry I really should’ve asked that first shouldn’t I have?”

“Sure.”

Her smile was bright again, and she gestured for him to come out, leading the way effortlessly.

She seemed to have the tour part down, explaining where the emergency exits and bathrooms were, and finished up in the common room with the massive TV and little kitchenette. A small fridge for all the residents on the floor to put their perishables. 

“Some people have their own mini fridges because they’re worried their stuff will be taken. But officially speaking, that’s not allowed.” She smacked her lips and narrowed her eyes before continuing, lowering her voice, “It’s not really a rule I’m strict on though, because I get it, you know?”

“I think this fridge will be fine,” Harry said and Jesy shrugged.

“So this is usually where we have mixers and stuff. The next one is on Saturday. There will be pizza but no beer because most of you guys are underage, so it’s not quite fair to have alcohol if not everyone can participate, you know? I like to think of it as a bit of a pre-party, the best way to start your weekend fun.”

Harry nodded. Her enthusiasm wasn’t exactly rubbing off on him, but it was a salve to his nerves nonetheless. 

He watched the way she scratched her head, carefully readjusting her hair. 

“The cafeteria downstairs has breakfast and lunch, obviously, but you have to use your student card for that. No cash or debit,” she said with a grimace. Harry could imagine she’d gotten a lot of complaints about that. It’s not something he was remotely concerned with.

“Sounds fine, I’ve got plenty of credits.”

“Cool. Well, I’m in room 107, if my door’s open you’re welcome to come in and chat. And if not there’s a little post box at the front where you can leave me a message. I’m here for you, okay? Like, whatever you need. Problems with other residents or if you need to find a tutor or like, whatever, you know?”

He nodded, said, “Thank you. We uh, we didn’t have anything like that where I used to stay so that’s nice.”

She smiled bright and carefree. “My pleasure! Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a date to get ready for.” She winked at him and squeezed his arm before bounding off, leaving him alone in the common room.

He could go back to his own room, but all he’d be doing in there is stare at the door with the silence pounding against his ears. No, that wouldn’t do.

He went to pick up his laptop and returned to the room, turning on the TV and leaving it on the Space network. Farscape was on, and the alien sci-fi sounds cocooned around him as he tried to catch up on all the homework he missed in the time he was away. 

He’d tried to go to as many classes as he could after the incident, but his concentration levels weren’t the best. He hadn’t wanted to ask the professors for leniency or extensions, but thankfully the TAs seemed understanding enough of a freshman needing a bit of a buffer.

 

≈

 

Harry’d worked through three episodes when the door to the common room swung open, and he was instantly on his feet, shielding his torso with his laptop.

The boy who came in looked at him with a confused smile, waving. 

“‘M I interrupting something? I can come back later,” he said, as his eyes darted between Harry’s face, the laptop, and the TV. “Were you watching porn or actually jerking off to aliens? No judgement.”

Harry shook his head and set aside his laptop. Being scared wasn’t an excuse to forget his manners. 

“Just a bit on edge, is all, didn’t mean to scare you.” He offered his hand to the boy. “Harry. Nice to meet you.”

The boy had a firm handshake. “Seems more like I scared you,” he said, his eyes darting over Harry’s face. His eyes were soft, with a hint of concern. A blue that looked a bit dull in the fluorescent light. “Louis.”

“Hi,” Harry said again, still holding on to his hand. 

Louis laughed and let go, said, “Yes, I believe we covered that already.” He nodded at the television. “Were you dead set on that space show or can I slide in and change the channel?” 

Harry shrugged. “As long as _you_ weren’t going to watch porn."

Louis laughed involuntarily, and covered his mouth. “Nah, I don’t think we even get those channels. I ordered a pizza, you’re welcome to share if you like?” 

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with can of soda. Just the sight of the drink gave Harry some hunger pangs, his stomach clenching around nothing. He hadn’t managed to eat more than a slice of toast for breakfast, and all the coffee he’d been drinking had undoubtedly started gnawing at his insides.

“Yeah, sure.”

Louis got settled on the opposite end of the couch, tucking his foot under his thigh comfortably. Harry still felt tense, his shoulders straining and his pulse pounding at this temple. But it seemed to be getting better. His arm wasn’t hurting anymore. 

“Ah, another rerun, of course,” Louis commented when he changed the channel. 

He wasn’t sure if Louis wanted to talk, so he resumed working on his essay, sneaking glances Louis’ way as the light from the TV screen flickered over his face. 

Louis’ phone vibrated, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden sound. There was no way Louis didn’t notice, but he didn’t comment on it.

“Pizza’s here, be right back,” he said with an uneven smile. Harry was grateful for the reprieve. 

It was just a fucking cell phone vibrating. Fuck. He ran his hands over his face and breathed in deeply, pressing his fingers into his temple. He set his laptop aside and went into the kitchenette, gathering plates for the food. He poured himself a tall glass of water, chugging the contents, the liquid sloshing down into his belly uncomfortably. He really did need to eat.

“Set the table, did you? Here I thought we were all animals and ate straight from the box,” Louis joked when he returned. Harry’d placed plates onto the small coffee table and Louis moved them over to the couch so the box could fit on there.

“It’s the least I could do.”

“Nah, mate, you’re helping me finish this monster. It was a special deal, but I knew I couldn’t eat all of it, and cold pizza is the worst.”

“Not for breakfast.”

Louis’ lips quirked. “Works for breakfast, yeah, but you look like you need it,” he said with a wink. He opened the carton and dutifully loaded slices onto their plates, handing Harry the one with the largest piece. “Extra pepperoni, cheese, and jalapenos.”

Louis took a large bite, and lowered the volume of the tv to a whisper. Which meant Louis probably wanted to talk. Harry hoped he wouldn’t have to explain his earlier panic at being interrupted. 

“You’re a freshman right?”

Harry nodded as he chewed, not eager to swallow because it would mean he’d have to contribute to the conversation.

“Yeah, I figured, since I hadn’t seen you around. I know the dorm’s super empty after that whole--” he grimaced, searching for a word. He knew. He must’ve known or he wouldn’t be dancing around the subject like this. Harry’s arm throbbed and he swallowed painfully.

“The massacre,” Harry supplied, mouth dry. “You can call it what it is.”

Louis nodded at him, said, “Yeah. After the massacre. Lots of people left campus. I mean, can’t blame them really. I know they’re trying to fill the rooms back up. Otherwise, the whole college is going to be like a ghost town.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess you came from off campus housing?” 

_Not quite_ , Harry thought, but he nodded. “This is cheaper,” he said. Although it really wasn’t. “Better way to get the full college experience, and all that.”

Louis’ mouth stretched into a broad smile. “Sounds like someone memorized the brochure.”

Harry honked out a laugh, covering his mouth with his fist to make sure none of the food he was eating fell out. It was the most normal he’d felt in weeks. 

Louis took out his phone and checked the time, and turned on the audio recording app. He changed the channel to the local news station, and Harry blinked in confusion until the 11 o’clock news came on.

His stomach clenched and Louis tapped his app to start recording. The news jingle rose like a crescendo as Louis turned the volume back up, and Harry was frozen staring at the screen. 

The news anchors greeted each other, and they discussed recent political news. Please. _Please_ let them not talk about it. 

The lower third announced the anchors’ names, and was quickly replaced with an update on the UV Massacre. All he needed to see was those first two letters and the ringing in his ears was in full force.

He moved, he knew he moved, because he wasn’t on the couch anymore, or watching the TV; he was walking down the hallway towards his room, and passed it as his mouth filled with saliva that he couldn’t swallow down. 

He made it to the bathrooms just in time, with no time to lock the stall behind him, fingers slipping on the lid of the toilet.

At least he had something to throw up this time. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach muscles convulsed. His mouth felt simultaneously dry and too wet, saliva still pooling around his tongue. He spat it out, head hanging heavily against the bowl. 

The door banged open behind him and his heart shot to his throat. Not again, please not again.

“Harry?”

It was Louis. Of course, it was just Louis. He looked concerned, brows tightly knit, and hand tight against the door frame. Harry must’ve looked an absolute mess on the floor, face sweating and mouth wet and shiny from vomit.

“The pizza was a bit spicy,” he croaked out, and Louis didn’t even pretend to believe him.

“Do you need me to get Jesy? She can probably call someone for you. Unless you want me to call someone else?”

“She’s on a date,” he managed to stutter.

“I have her number, this is more important.”

Harry shook his head. That’s the last thing he wanted. It wouldn’t help. He’d just have to explain to her what happened and then she’d be looking at Harry just like Louis was. And she’d probably be scared of him, too. The only survivor is the most likely to be the perpetrator, as the press was so fond of saying. Although he’d been cleared immediately by the police, the press was still in a frenzy despite a suspect just having been brought into custody.

No, no, he didn’t want Louis to call Jesy.

“Please don’t,” it’s all he could say, and he moved to wipe his mouth on his sleeve until he thought better of it.

Louis went away and returned with some paper towels, handing them to him gently. He crouched on the floor so he was on the same level as Harry and his eyes darted over Harry’s face.

“I should have asked before turning on the news, I’m sorry. I know it’s a sore topic. Understandably. You don’t have to talk about it. I guess I just thought--” He took a deep breath. “I guess I’m an idiot, is all.”

“Why?”

“I mean, you didn’t leave school, so I just kind of thought maybe you’d be okay with watching the news? Which was dumb because it’s your first year and there’s some nutjob on the loose and like. Of course you don’t want to hear about that, I’m sorry.” 

Harry wiped his face and mouth with the towels, and dumped them into the toilet before flushing. He carefully got up, still a bit unsteady. Louis steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Will you forgive me?”

“It’s not your fault. I’m just.” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t really finish that sentence yet. Louis seemed understanding, but how understanding would he be when he heard the full story? Since he wanted to keep up with the news, it’s possible he’d try to milk Harry for information. For morbid details. Maybe he’d sit and lick his lips and ask for more, hungry for gore.

He shuddered at the thought, remembering the intrusive emails and voicemails he’d gotten from journalists before the police issued a gag order. That was bad enough, but it would be even worse coming from this boy he just met, who seemed kind and like he actually might give a shit.

Louis shook him out of his thoughts with a squeeze to his arm. His brow was still furrowed, and he bit down on his lip, the tender skin paling under his teeth.

“Listen, I don’t know if you want company or not but if you’re… scared or whatever? My roommate left so I’ve got a spare bed in my room. And I’ve got an ensuite since I’m a junior.”

Harry blinked. A shower would be amazing. A shower in a bathroom that he could lock. Inside another room that was locked. He hadn’t considered the communal bathrooms and showers before now, but considering a simple knock on his door made him freak out he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to handle a communal shower. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“I’m offering, mate. You just retched up dinner because I was thoughtless and turned on the news. Don’t worry about it. ‘Sides it gets a bit lonely, I’d gotten used to my roommate being around to listen to my rants, you know? Having someone’s ear would be a pleasure.”

He nodded slowly. Louis seemed to mean it. “Okay. Just for tonight, maybe?”

“Yeah, whatever you want.”

“Great. ‘M just gonna go pick up the stuff from the common room and turn off the TV. I’m in 128, you can just meet me there I guess?”

“Okay.”

Louis left, and the door swung shut with a soft thud. Harry wiped his face with his hand. He was still on edge, skin tingling with nerves. Maybe his family was right. Maybe he shouldn’t have moved into the dorms.

 

≈

 

The door to Louis’ room was propped open when Harry got there, and Louis must’ve heard him coming because he opened it before Harry had a chance to knock.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” he let Harry in. “I’d show you around but I think it’s quite self-explanatory, yeah?”

“This bed is bigger than mine.” Harry said, dropping his backpack on it. It had been stripped, but Louis had left a spare blanket on it.

“Oh yeah, I don’t miss the single beds at all. This is more expensive, even with a roommate but you know, I think it’s worth it.”

He was busying himself stacking folders and shuffling them under his bed. There was something that looked like a large piece of cardboard folded over on Louis’ bed. There was still sticky tack on the wall, so Louis must have taken it down recently.

“Shower’s all yours. I was thinking of making some tea? Might help calm your nerves a bit if you want some. And I think I’ve got some toast, too. I think I remember something about starch being good for an upset stomach.”

Harry wanted to protest, but he could tell that Louis would protest right back, so he let a small smile come through and nodded weakly. “Sounds good, thanks.”

The bathroom was absolutely tiny, Harry just barely fitting into the shower. The water pressure left something to be desired, and Harry hadn’t brought any soap with him so he lathered up using some of Louis’ Old Spice body wash. He banged his elbow on the sink as he got changed, and still, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Louis was cross legged on his bed, working on his laptop, and he quickly pulled out his earbuds when Harry emerged.

“Feeling better?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” He shuffled his clothes back into his backpack; he’ll have to put them in his own hamper tomorrow morning, but for now his eyelids were heavy and he was exhausted.

“You can check if the door’s locked if you like,” Louis said casually, and Harry did, actually. He really did. He went over to the door and yanked on it hard; locked. The tight feeling in his chest loosened a little bit. 

Louis had prepared a tray with toast and tea, and a banana that was a bit too green for Harry’s liking, but he still appreciated the gesture.

“My mom always says to think BRAT when someone’s sick, not sure if that works with like, panic attacks or whatever but. You still need some sustenance. Sorry if the pizza made it worse.” 

“Thanks, Louis.” He bit into the toast, it was buttered liberally and the crunch was just right in his mouth. He was pretty sure Louis was sneaking glances at him as he ate, and for some reason he didn’t mind it so much. It didn’t feel intrusive, just, legitimately concerned. “You can do your work you know, don’t mind me.”

“Right, yeah.” Louis’ fingers flitted across his forehead, tugging at the hair that hung almost over his eyes. “I’ve got some work to do. But you can go to sleep, yeah? Set your alarm to whatever time, I sleep like a log, so. Don’t worry about me.”

Harry nodded at that. He snuggled into bed, and finished his toast. When crumbs fell onto the blankets he wet his thumb and picked them off. 

Louis had put his earbuds back in and was tapping away at his computer. He’d turned off his desk light and the only thing illuminating the room was his computer screen. The artificial light making Harry blink sleepily. 

He didn’t have time to wish Louis goodnight before drifting off.

 

≈

 

Harry hadn’t intended on crashing with Louis the next night, but when he walked by his room Harry noticed the door was propped open. He was tempted to check in on him, although his ribs felt tight with anxiety at what might be hiding behind the semi-open door.

He knocked, standing straight and ready to turn and run if need be, but Louis appeared in no time. So he asked the first thing that came to mind; 

“Could I borrow your shower again?” 

Louis’ answering smile appeared too quickly to be fabricated. Harry’s heart stuttered in his chest at the thought that Louis actually did care. He wasn’t just faking it last night, or pitying him because he threw up a perfectly good pizza. No, he seemed fine with lending out his shower a second time. 

“Yeah, I just need to tidy up a bit, hold on.” He went back into the room, and the big piece of cardboard was on the bed again. It looked like it was covered in clippings, but Harry couldn’t quite make them out before Louis folded it over. 

“All yours.”

Harry brought his shower caddy this time around, and after his shower he somehow ended up having a discussion about which decade was the best for sitcoms-- Louis claimed 90s, Harry was still firmly team 80s. They scoured Netflix for episodes to support their claims, and before he knew it, Harry was yawning and tucked into Louis’ spare bed again.

The rest of the week unfolded the same way. Harry was drawn to Louis’ door and spare bed. He’d gotten the hang of changing in the bathroom without banging his limbs against any fixtures, and Louis’ laptop screen worked as a night light.

This carried on until Friday, when Louis’ door was closed when Harry got home after class.

It was a bit later than usual, since Harry had stayed late at his Philosophy seminar, getting lost in a discussion about Kant with one of the TAs he’d made friends with. He’d felt like a normal student for a while, only to return home and be gripped with worry at Louis’ closed door.

It was probably nothing. He was probably out even, it’s not like they’d agreed they’d see each other that night. It’s not like Harry actually shared a room with Louis. Because then he’d have a key and this would all be moot.

He planned on asking Louis if he wanted to grab dinner with him; expand their hang out zone beyond the twenty feet of his room. He’d turned down Ed’s invite to go out because he expected to be seeing Louis, which. Well, that was his own damn fault, wasn’t it? He could text Ed now, and tell him his plans changed, but he didn’t really feel like going out anymore, though, worry gnawing at him.

Normally he wouldn’t be concerned, and he knew logically that there was no reason to be. But under the circumstances...well. 

He’d been wrong in the past. He couldn’t trust his gut anymore. 

And he hadn’t even exchanged numbers with Louis, which made him feel even worse. The situation could’ve been avoided if he’d taken some initiative. 

The most terrible thing was that he could check the news to see if something happened. But he couldn’t bring himself to even do that. His insides knotting up until he felt like he’d collapse onto himself. And to be perfectly honest, he probably couldn’t handle seeing any bad news. He would probably immediately associate it with Louis, regardless of what it was.

He had some leftover take away that he nibbled on in the common room. A few girls came in and glanced at him, but left after picking up their sodas from the fridge. He watched Law & Order, which he couldn’t even really focus on, the soundtrack pounding into his skin. 

On his way back to his room, he noticed that Jesy’s door was open. She might be able to help, or at least she might be able to try.

She called out for him to come in as soon as he knocked, and he found her perched in front of a full length mirror, straightening her hair. She glanced in his direction and her expression brightened.

“Hey babes, how’re you settling in? Have a seat!” She nodded at a footstool near the couch.

“Good, yeah.”

“Haven’t seen you around much. Reeling from the midterms?”

“Uh, m’doing okay actually.” He hadn’t even checked to see how he’d done, since midterms and grades all fell squarely in the Before category of his life. “Been hanging out a lot with Louis, actually.”

“Oh, Lou, he’s a real hoot, isn’t he? Shame his buddy left. The two of them were near inseparable.”

Harry frowned at that. Louis hadn’t mentioned his former roommate, save to say that he was big on photography, and hadn’t left school, just moved back home at the insistence of his mother. 

“Yeah, shame. You haven’t seen him around, have you?”

Jesy’s face fell. “Oh, here I thought you were going to bring me a challenge.”

“Hm?”

“You know, usually when someone drops by on a Friday night they’ve got some bigger concerns than where their friend ran off to. Unless it’s because they had a fight or something.” Her eyebrows knotted. “You didn’t have a fight with him, did you? I mean, I can help with that as well, like, I’m here for your interpersonal needs too just-- actually why don’t you just tell me.”

“No, that’s actually just it. Just wondering if you know where he is. Haven’t seen him all day.” Not since breakfast, to be accurate, but he wasn’t quite keen on sharing that.

She shook her head, and ran her fingers through her hair, messing up the newly straightened sections. “Sorry, babes, I think he’s probably out partying. He tends to be out and about on Fridays, loves to let loose that one.”

“Right.”

He swallowed, watching as Jesy set aside her iron, and picked up her make up bag. This was it. This was his shot.

“There was nothing on the news, was there?” He tried to sound unaffected, but his words must’ve still struck a chord because Jesy stilled and looked at him intently.

“No, I don’t think so… what do you mean? We can check now if you like.”

“No, no, just.” His throat was dry, heart trying to claw its way out. He wet his lips. “There wasn’t any more murders, was there? Or like. Nobody’s gone missing?”

Jesy’s mouth dropped open and she seemed to struggle to keep a straight face. “Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I don’t think anything’s happened. My mom would be blowing up my phone if it did, that’s for sure.”

Right, of course. As would his, probably. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

She looked like she wanted to ask him if he knew anyone that was involved, but she just looked at him plaintively. Instead, she asked, “If you need to talk about it I can try to get you in touch with someone? I know it’s tough, like, being around with that big cloud of doom looming over us.”

He already had someone to talk to, several someone’s in fact. Someone in the police department, someone on staff at the university, a private someone that his dad got in touch with.

He tried to force out a laugh. It sounded more like a gargle to his ears. “No, I’m just. You know. Curious is all. I’m fine. Really. Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

She seemed skeptical. God knows Harry would be as well, but at least she had the decency to pretend like he pulled it off. 

She bit her lip, and pulled out a notepad, she wrote down something and ripped out the paper, handing it to him. “That’s my number if you need to text or call or anything. I’m going out but I’ll keep it on, okay?”

He nodded, the paper a thin hope offering in his hand. She couldn’t know it wouldn’t help him at all. “Yeah, okay.”

 

≈

 

The nightmares returned that night. 

He’d been fine while at Louis’ for some reason. 

But while in his own bed he woke up in a panic, convinced that someone was standing outside his window. He couldn’t move, but he could swear that there was a shadow in the corner of his vision. A shadow with the same shape and weight as the man that attacked him and killed his friends.

He could see his hand sticking out from under his blanket, but he couldn’t feel it. As if it were completely detached. He imagined clenching it, moving it to pick up the bat under his bed. He could visualize it perfectly. 

And yet he couldn’t move.

He ended up staring at the ceiling, heart hammering in his chest. He knew, logically, that no one could get into his room. But he still felt like he was being watched. And he could do nothing about it. 

Somehow he must’ve fallen back asleep because he woke up again in the morning, tangled up in his sheets with a massive headache. His limbs were mobile, and he thrashed on his bed just because he could, bedsheets detaching from the mattress and bunching up under him.

He wanted to scream.

 

≈

 

He didn’t expect to find Louis’ door cracked open. He hoped it would be, as a sign of life. As a sign that Louis wasn’t tired of him yet, but it was still a surprise.

“Louis? You in here?” He knocked and the door opened further. He felt brave and stepped in. 

The door to the bathroom was closed, and he could hear water running behind it.

His gaze was drawn to the spot above Louis’ bed, where a cardboard sheet had been mounted to the wall. It looked like the same sheet that Louis had been fiddling with earlier, tucking away under his bed. It was almost as wide as the bed, and was covered in papers. 

He heard the smack of Louis’ wet feet on the floor, and heard him suck in a sharp breath.

“What is this?” Harry asked, still staring at the sheet. It was a stupid question; Harry knew what it was, of course. It was impossible to misunderstand what the collection of clippings and photos on the cardboard were about. 

“Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see this.” He stepped up on the bed, and Harry was briefly distracted that he did so with so much authority while wearing nothing but a towel. 

He unpinned the cardboard, and carefully folded it, holding on to it gingerly. “Talk to me, please.”

“Why do you have all that stuff, what--” He swallowed hard. The words wouldn’t come because he couldn’t think of what to ask. Any questions would undoubtedly lead to answer that would twist the knife in his gut. 

Louis watched him carefully, stepping off the bed and getting closer. Harry flinched, wanting to move away but stayed still. Louis sighed, mouth tugging at the corner.

“I know you freaked out when the massacre was mentioned in the news, so I thought it best not to bring it up. I really did not mean for you to see this. Are you okay?”

He reached out, fingers stroking Harry’s cheek before pulling away, as if he’d crossed a line and been burned by Harry’s skin. Louis’ hand dropped to his shoulder instead, keeping his touch feather light. Harry blinked, unable to process it.

“Why do you have that? Why are you collecting all of--this? These are real people’s lives you know.”

“I know that, Harry.” He sounded like he meant it. But that made no sense. How could Louis be aware and still turn this into a hobby. Collecting information about the murders, and for what?

Harry suddenly remembered the night he met Louis-- how he’d taken out his phone before the news started and put on the microphone app. “You were recording the news. The night I panicked.”

Louis blinked at him in surprise. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s better than taking notes.” 

“Why?”

“I’m taking criminology, you know. It’s good research.” He wouldn’t look Harry in the eye.

“I thought you studied journalism.”

“‘M a double major.”

“This is for _class_?” Based on Louis’ wince Harry must’ve sounded thoroughly offended. 

“No. No it’s not.” He paused and pinched his lip with his fingers. “I want to find out who did it.”

“LIke some amateur detective? Out of morbid curiosity? Or are you called sleuths now? All over reddit with your theories that ruin people’s lives.” His voice was shrill but he didn’t care. He’d trusted Louis; he was _worried_ about him for God’s sake. And here Louis was behaving worse than the rubbernecking gawkers. 

Louis shook his head. “No-- That’s why I mentioned the class it’s just. This is what I want to do, right? Solve these things. And normally I don’t bother much with other cases. I pay attention to what’s happening all the time, obviously, but mostly it seems that things are taken care of. This though. I don’t think the cops know what they’re doing.”

“Why?” Somehow it felt like his heart rate had slowed, each beat a punch to the inside of his ribs. He was cracking open from the inside. 

He grabbed the cardboard from Louis’ hands, and unfolded it. Louis tried to jerk the sheet away from him, but Harry held onto it tightly.

“Harry. I don’t think you really want to hear this. I’ll just put this away and we don’t have to talk about it. We can watch Captain America, or something. Xanadu even, if you want, you can pick. Or we can raid the stores for Halloween candy, I bet there’s still some out there, they’re probably ninety percent off at this point.”

Harry wasn’t listening. He was trailing his fingers along the cardboard. It was hard to take in all the information on it, so he got on Louis’ bed and tacked it back onto the wall. 

Observing every piece of paper that Louis had deemed important enough to glue on it. There were newspaper clippings and names. A tentative timeline, a list of evidence that’d been released in the press. A large empty square with the heading ‘SUSPECTS’.

Harry’s housemates’ names were printed in boxes on the side of the sheet, each with tendrils shooting out and other names connecting to them. These people he’d shared a home with, reduced to ink on paper. 

There was Vicky, who liked to sing as she cooked and changed the brakes on Harry’s bike when they broke; Alex who was obsessed with wrestling and wanted to plant strawberries in their backyard; Gabe who taught Harry the difference between sativa and indica; Nate who helped Harry fill out a seminar application for the spring semester. 

But none of that was on the sheet, of course. None of that had been reported, because it wasn’t relevant to people’s morbid curiosity. All they wanted to know about was the gore, the thrill. Getting off on something terrible happening to someone else. 

Under all their names there was another, which read ‘JOHN DOE SURVIVOR’.

His box.

He inhaled shakily, practically hearing the air whining as it passed through his nose. He thumbed at the board.

“That’s my box.”

He could hear the moment Louis processed what he said. The air around them going perfectly still. Even his breathing stopped. 

“What?”

Harry took it upon himself to peel off the printed John Doe name tag, and he rolled it between his fingers until it was a compact cylinder. 

“Harry Styles. That’s the name that should go there.”

“Oh my god, Harry.” Louis’ voice broke on his name, and Harry had to clench his eyes shut, legs giving out. He dropped onto the bed, cardboard slipping from his fingers.

This was it. This was when the pity started. The coddling and the long suffering stares and the twitching mouths holding back invasive questions. 

He’d heard people in class speculating. Asking about who the only survivor might be, and who he was. The press was only allowed to print his sex and his age. Not nearly enough detail for anyone to narrow it down to him, especially since no one knew he was living in the co-op, but enough to have speculation rampant in class, in seminars, in line at the food truck and at Starbucks. 

When Harry opened his eyes Louis was sitting on the bed, knee gently pressing against Harry’s. He was still just wearing a towel. His hair was damp and plastered to his forehead and his ears. He blinked at him, and Harry had never noticed how long his eyelashes were before. How had he never noticed that?

“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis asked. There was nothing but his regular concern there, tinged with a bit of sadness. No hunger. No sensationalism.

Harry breathed out.

“They arrested someone, though, didn’t they,” Harry said. He meant it as a question, but it came off stern and decided. 

Louis didn’t seem offended.

“They did.” He licked his lips before leaning back. “I don’t think that’s the guy, though.”

Harry nodded his understanding, and somehow, even without knowing any details, it fit. It fit as to why he was still terrified, and why he second guessed everything, and why he still felt like a raw nerve; exposed and waiting to be stepped on. 

“I need you to tell me why you think that. Before I can talk.”

“Well, they’re charging him for stalking now. Which means they don’t have enough on him to actually pin him as the perp.”

Harry frowned. He hadn’t know about the details, really, just heard murmurs about him being brought in. “But everyone’s acting like he did it.”

“Because they want it to be him. If it’s him, that means the problem’s solved and there’s nothing to be worried about anymore.”

“But you think we should still be worried.”

“I wouldn’t say that… just. Alert.”

Harry watched him for a beat, waiting for more of an explanation that didn’t come. Louis shifted under his gaze but remained silent.

“I want to know everything.” He had to be direct. 

He half expected Louis to flinch, but instead he nodded.

“Okay. Yeah. Might need some tea. It’s a bit of a long story. And I should get dressed, probably. It’s a bit odd to be having a serious conversation in the nude.”

“I’ll take care of the tea,” Harry offered, and picked up one of Louis’ boxes before heading to the kitchen.

 

≈

 

They sat on the floor, between the beds. Harry cradled his mug in his hands. It was the big one that Louis always insisted on using, because he needed the caffeine more, according to him. This time he’d just pressed it into Harry’s hands without a word.

“What do you know so far?” Harry asked. 

“Harry…” Louis pleaded with him. As if Harry didn’t deserve to know. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Nothing you say will be worse than being there, okay? So don’t try to spare me. If you know something that I don’t you should tell me.” 

“You can’t even watch the news.”

“Okay. Yeah, you’re right. But that’s not facts. That’s just sensationalism. Replaying the same clips and talking to the same neighbours and repeating to stay safe. We thought we were safe, you know? Had an alarm and everything.”

“You had an alarm?” Louis’ eyebrows quirked and he quickly tried to settle his face into a neutral expression. “Sorry, that was insensitive.”

“Why does it matter?”

Louis worried his lip. “It just adds to my theory.”

“Which is?”

“They got the wrong guy.”

“Okay...You’re gonna have to say more than that.”

“I think you guys were targeted. But not by the guy they’ve got in custody.” Louis thumbed the lip of his mug. “The guy they have in custody is Vicky’s ex, Carlos.”

Harry squinted, trying to recall if Vicky had ever spoken about him. “I don’t think Vicky ever mentioned him, but Alex said she had an ex that was annoying. A bit older than her, who dumped her when she left for college.”

“So we’ve got the bad break up. I could see why that would seem relevant to the cops.”

“But not to you?”

“They think they have motive, jealousy, or whatever. But you need more than motive to catch a perp. Every poor person has motive to rob a bank, that doesn’t make them guilty, you know?”

“And you don’t think they do?”

“No.” He shook his head. “They thought it was random at first, even. And now they picked the first person with a connection that might have some motive? It’s a mess.”

The silence was easy between them, surprisingly. Louis had a theory. He didn’t seem freaked out by Harry’s revelation, more concerned, really. And it seemed to be only because Harry had given him reason to be concerned. 

He could trust him. He cleared his throat and bit down on his lower lip.

“They thought it was me, at first. That I did it.”

Louis winced at that, and Harry appreciated it. He’d been-- well. He hadn’t realized that that’s what they thought until he was a couple hours deep into questioning. When the detectives got more and more frustrated that his answers weren’t making sense with their theory.

When they found out his wound couldn’t be self-inflicted.

“I don’t blame them,” Harry continued. It sounded rehearsed, because it kind of was. He’d repeated it in his head a million times. But it was still true. “Since you’re studying this stuff you know. You know that it’s usually someone close to the victims. If there’s a survivor they’re a good bet.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Louis’ face belied his words; he seemed offended on Harry’s behalf. 

“You’ll have to do the same you know, when you’re investigating stuff. Not put personal feelings in the mix.”

Louis huffed, covering his mouth with his hand. He poked at Harry’s shin with his big toe. “I know, duh. I’m just also an excellent judge of character. And I know you wouldn’t ever be involved with something like this.”

Harry shrugged, trying to keep the burning in his chest at bay. At the very least trying not to show it. 

“So you don’t think it was someone random, but you don’t think it was Carlos either?”

Louis nodded. “Yeah. I went to check out the street last night. All the houses are basically the same. There’s nothing that sets the co-op aside from the others. In fact, the house next door has far more foliage in the front.”

“Right.”

“And also. It’s a house where four young fit guys and a girl lived. No random perpetrator is going to pick a house where he could easily be overpowered. As soon as he’d noticed he would’ve left.”

“How would he have noticed that though?”

“Well, there’s the entryway. He came in through the front door. The shoes on the rack, the jackets. The names in the mailbox. Alex is the only unisex name.”

That was all true. Harry hadn’t thought about that at all.

“Vicky, she-- they said he killed her first.” He swallowed.

Louis nodded. “Yeah, that’s another thing. She could’ve been saved for last because she’d put up the least of a fight. Like, from his point of view, obviously. And if it was Carlos and he wanted revenge he could have left after killing her. No need to attack everyone else.”

“So you think we were… picked out? Targeted?” Louis nodded his assent, taking another gulp of tea. “But why?”

“That’s the key, isn’t it?”

A laboured sigh escaped Harry’s mouth, rattling through his ribs and throat. He couldn’t control it, and Louis’ expression changed minutely. 

“Is this too much? Like I said, I can just put this away and never mention it to you again. You can still borrow my spare bed whenever you want. Talking about this isn’t like, a prerequisite for our friendship.”

Louis looked serious, lower lip pulling down as he swallowed. It was genuine, Harry could tell. 

“No. No, I want to know.” He said it easily, surprising even himself. But it was true. It must’ve meant something that Louis, the one person who made him feel safe, was investigating the case. 

Louis didn’t quite look like he believed him, but dropped the subject. “Did you come to borrow my shower, by the way?”

“No, I just wanted to see you.” He sniffed, and Louis’ face softened. “Couldn’t find you last night and I hadn’t heard anything.”

“You were worried?”

Harry shrugged, raising his shoulders the smallest amount. He knew he wanted to know everything that Louis knew. But it felt like a lot to deal with right now. After a night of no rest and waking up paralyzed. After worrying himself sick last night, for no reason. 

“I want to help.”

“Now?” Louis’ mouth twitched, like he wanted to add on something about Harry being too eager, but he refrained.

What Harry really wanted right now was a bath. His skin itching with it. But that wasn’t quite an option.Just submerging himself under water, until he couldn’t associate with any of his limbs.Just the water cradling him and keeping him suspended. Floating freely. Letting his brain run wild without having to be aware of anything else, no physicality, just a tub cradling him. 

“Well, ideally I’d be crawling into a tub right now, but since that’s not possible...Yeah, now works. There’s no time like the present, right?”

Louis seemed taken aback, but didn’t laugh or frown at him. His mouth twitched as he narrowed his eyes, seemingly deep in thought.

“It’s not quite the same, but the athletics center has a pool.” Louis’ lips thinned out into a crooked smile, tongue peeking out behind his teeth. 

“Really?” He could float endlessly in that, without being constrained. 

Yeah, a pool sounded even better. 

 

≈

 

“Don’t make fun of my swimsuit.” It sounded like Louis was trying to be stern, but really, Harry had no room to judge. 

He hadn’t considered swimming an option when going to college, since they were nowhere near any bodies of water, so he didn’t have trunks with him. That left him with no other option than picking up a speedo-like swimming brief in the vending machine at the athletic centre. 

It wouldn’t matter when they were submerged, anyway. 

They got changed quickly, and Louis broke the rules immediately, running towards the pool and cannonballing into it, his trunks but a blur in the process. He emerged in one of the lanes, and started putting an effort into a butterfly stroke. 

Clearly, he spent some time in here. 

Harry lowered himself into the freestyle area. He could join in and do some laps, but he mostly just wanted to starfish, and float, and think. He was already exhausted; he didn’t need more exercise to tire him out. 

The quiet was perfect, the only sound came from the waves caused by Louis’ movement. The water was cradling him, keeping him afloat. He felt safe and calm. 

He could think, with no expectations of saying anything. And he couldn’t think of the last time he was in that position aside from those nights spent in Louis’ room, when they’d be studying silently, each on their beds.

So.

He wanted to help. He knew as much. And he could tell that Louis wasn’t sure that it was a good idea. But he couldn’t blame him for it, really, since he’d essentially had a mild panic attack on the night they met because of a news broadcast. He wouldn’t trust himself on that premise alone. 

But just thinking about helping Louis made Harry feel calmer. More in control. If he was right that they’d been targeted specifically, that meant that Harry probably still wasn’t safe. He already knew he wasn’t, not really, since he’d seen the attacker. Seen him blink away sweat and the way his skimask puffed out as he exhaled. Heard him grunt as he stabbed Harry in the arm.

This man was real, and he was out there, and he was very capable of finding Harry again. 

Harry tipped himself over, submerging himself completely. He held his breath and started swimming in Louis’ direction. He opened his eyes underwater, blinking until they got used to the chlorine. 

As Louis passed by Harry noticed his trunks, there’s large rainbow stripes on the sides, and that wasn’t embarrassing in the least. Harry’s stomach fluttered a bit from what it might mean, but then also at the idea that Louis would even warn him about something like that. Why would Louis think that Harry would tease him for those? He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know the answer.

He swam over to the stairs and pulled himself up with trembling arms. He must’ve been more exhausted than he thought. 

Louis’ head popped out of the water. 

“You done?”

He rolled his neck, digging his fingers into the meat of his neck. “Yeah.”

Louis took that as his cue to get out as well, floating to the side of the pool and raising himself up with his arms. He got up easily and walked over to Harry. All he could focus on were the wisps of wet hair matted to Louis skin. Just below his collarbones and his navel. He swallowed.

“Show off!”

“As if you wouldn’t have done the same if you weren’t wiped out already,” Louis countered. He pulled loosely at Harry’s small ponytail.

That’s when Harry noticed.

“Oh my god,” he said and Louis let go immediately.

He wasn’t even pretending not to stare at Louis’ trunks, even though it could easily be confused for him staring at something else.

“Harry. What did I tell you.”

“I’m not making fun of you those are-- those are amazing.”

The had rainbows, of course, which wasn’t the remarkable thing. They were 70s style, with something resembling a slit going up the sides, making the fabric bunch up around Louis’ thighs. And they were tight already as they were.

“Are they vintage?” He had to ask.

“Were my dad’s when he was younger, yeah.”

He poked Harry’s thigh with his toes. Harry expected Louis to tell him to stop staring, but he just scraped against him with his big toenail. 

“‘M getting cold, come on.”

 

≈

 

The rest of the day was a wash.

They agreed that Harry would help Louis. Or well, Harry said he would, and Louis didn’t quite protest enough for Harry to consider backing off.

He wanted to start right away, but Louis pointed out that he was essentially dead on his feet after their swim. Louis wasn’t wrong; Harry’s eyelids were drooping and his brain was a bit foggy.

“I just need a nap,” he said, and laid down on his bed in Louis’ room. Wait. No, not his bed. Louis’ extra bed that he’d just happened to take residence in. That smelled like his shampoo and had a stain of his drool. Louis’ spare bed. “Wake me up in an hour,” he mumbled.

Except he didn’t wake up in an hour. He was shaken awake at dinner time. Or at least that’s what he figured, since his stomach was tight with hunger and the room was darker despite the curtains being open.

“Time to be social, Haz, come on.” 

He grumbled something in response, words eaten by the pillow. 

“Jesy’s gonna come knocking on our door in ten, you’ve got time to get changed if you want?”

Harry sat up and blinked sleepily. The bi-weekly mixer, right. 

He was still exhausted. Shoulders a bit tense, but other than that he was fine. And as much as he wanted to fit in with the rest of the dorm residents, he didn’t really feel the need to impress them. The only person he really cared about impressing was in the room with him, so.

He didn’t get changed, and he and Louis knocked elbows as they headed to the common room. There were a few people already there. Louis joined those on the floor, right up against the wall so he could lean back. Harry did the same, sidling right next to Louis, thighs pressed up against his. 

Jesy arrived carrying three cartons of pizza, trailed by a tall lanky guy who was holding large bottles of soda in his arms. He dropped them off and disappeared to gather cups. 

Drinks and slices were passed along, and Harry remained silent, happy to listen to Louis bantering with their floor mates. He seemed to be on good terms with all of them, exchanging as many barbs and jabs with the petite girls across the room as he was with the guy built like a linebacker he was sitting next to. Which meant that his kindness towards Harry was perhaps just part of his character. Not an indication that Harry was anyone special.

He tried to shove that thought away from his mind, chewing harder on his slice of pizza that was covered in congealed cheese. 

Harry needn’t have been concerned with sticking out as a newbie since there were at least five other people who’d just moved into the dorms. Jesy made them play ice breaker games, and no one paid more attention to Harry than anyone else. 

Except for Louis, who’d folded his legs and pressed his toes under Harry’s calves. It was a nice anchor, and although they didn’t really speak to each other it was a nice reminder of their connection. He pinched Harry’s hip when he yawned. “Almost done, just keep those eyes peeled for a bit longer,” low enough that Harry wasn’t sure if he imagined it. 

Sashi-- who had been carrying the sodas-- was an aspiring stand up comic and suggested that they all come out to an open mic with him after the meeting. Harry expected Louis to agree and perhaps challenge him to a joke-off, but he wiggled his toes and said he was tired. Harry echoed the sentiment. 

Harry was eager to get started on the investigation, and thought that was why Louis decided to stay in. But no, Louis simply pushed him into bed, shaking his head when Harry asked if they should get started on their investigation.

“Gonna need all those brain cells wide awake tomorrow,” he said, dropping a bottle of water next to Harry’s bed before crawling into his own. Harry swiftly fell asleep. 

 

≈

 

For once they were down in the cafeteria. “We’ll go stir crazy if we stay in my room all the time,” Louis had said and grabbed Harry’s hand before pulling him downstairs. 

It was like a dam had broken, after his confession. Harry would never have known that Louis was holding back before, but it was so obvious now. He was more willing to poke fun and touch him, no longer worried that Harry would spook, he guessed.

“What do you need to know?” Harry asked, watching as Louis scooped cereal into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

He knocked his feet against Harry’s under the table. 

“Well, there’s a lot to consider. I think if you’re okay to share what happened and like, what you saw, that would be great. But I don’t think that’s necessary? I don’t want you to re-traumatize yourself.” He tapped his spoon against his bowl. “And I was going to do this without you to begin with.”

“Right, I mean.” He swallowed. “I have to be honest, I don’t quite remember a lot of it?”

“That’s alright. Hmm. Maybe, okay, well. Since I think it’s possibly someone who has been in contact with you before why don’t you tell me about your housemates? Like did they have any particular routines? Did anyone have beef with them? Exes or stalkers and stuff like that? Aside from Carlos, that is.”

Harry thought back to the board and the little boxes with each of his housemates names. That’s all they were to Louis-- or really, anyone who read about the news. They deserved so much better, and he was the only one who could give that to them.

“Vicky and Alex were dating. I think for a couple of months. She worked as a bartender. He-- I can’t quite remember. I think he did work study at the library?”

“Right, okay. So there’s certainly the possibility of scorned customers on her end, but that doesn’t really fit. They would have attacked her when she was alone and vulnerable at the bar in that case, I think.”

“Or left after getting her, right? That’s why you said her ex couldn’t have done it?”

“Yeah, exactly. Although,” Louis says, and taps his spoon against his bowl. “It’s not that he _couldn’t_ have done it. It’s just not likely.”

“Right.” What else was relevant? He doubted that Alex made any enemies at the library. “Gabe… he was a huge pothead. Taught me the difference between different strands.”

“So he had a connection with a dealer?”

“Yeah, yeah I met them once though and they seemed really harmless. Short and really skinny. And I think high most of the time.”

“Mhm, still worth looking into. If you have their number I’ll look into them?”

“Okay.”

“Nate was dating. No one in particular though, he’d bring people home every now and then. So I guess maybe one of them could have built some resentment? Or gotten jealous?”

“Yeah, perhaps.” Louis played with his spoon, slicing through the milk in his bowl. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Like. Do you have any scorned exes? Or bitter one night stands? Or just general people who knew where you lived?”

Harry wrinkled his nose. It was harder to think about this when it came to himself. He spent most of his time in class, still trying to get used to the different workload from high school. He’d made some friends during frosh week that he sat with in classes, and whom he went out drinking with occasionally. But mostly he’d hung out with his housemates, preparing weekly dinners, and playing video games, and going to cheap movies. He’d gotten along so well with them that he hadn’t looked elsewhere for friends. 

“I don’t know. I’m friendly with a couple of TAs. And like, I went to some frosh week events, but none of those people know where I lived?”

“They could find out.” He pushed his bowl away and played with his mug of coffee. “What about like, hookups? Those people would know where you lived.” 

“I didn’t really bring any hookups to the house. Because it was still new right? Didn’t want to disrespect the others by having strangers parading around in the morning.”

“Very considerate of you.”

Harry shrugged. There must’ve been more though… “Actually there was this one guy… he’s friends with Nate. He was over one night and I turned him down.”

Louis’ eyebrows arched at that. “Oh?”

“Yeah, I guess, I haven’t seen him around much lately.” It was a bit odd, when he thought about it. Nick was one of the few people that knew Harry lived in the co-op. He hadn’t sought Harry out to share his condolences or to mourn Nate, who’d introduced them. Nothing. 

“Okay, so we’ve got your first suspect to investigate.” 

Harry grimaced at the word, but Louis was right. “You want me to investigate him?”

“No.” Louis seemed to consider his answer, turning his mug over in his hand. “That might not be entirely safe. But keep an eye on him, if you see him? We’ll add him to the list.”

“The suspect list?” His voice had taken on a harsh tone, and Louis picked up on it. Harry hadn’t noticed his grip around his fork had tightened until Louis fingers pried his fist open.

“Don’t think of it like that. Think of it as a pre-suspect list, if that helps? It’s just as much to possibly cross him off.”

“But you think it could be him.” His voice trembled. “You think it could be someone that I’ve spoken to and laughed with. Someone who ate from our bowls and brought beer to the house and sat in on the weekly dinner. Someone who was friends with us.”

He knew it, of course, he knew it. But actually being faced with that possibility was brutal. As if his surroundings had crystallized in front of him and would crack with the slightest nudge.

“I think it could be, yes.”

Harry took a shaky breath. Louis’ grip on his hand was steady and he looked down at it, at where his nails dug into Louis’ palm. He tried to loosen his hold on him, not wanting to cut off circulation or anything.

Louis brought his other hand around Harry’s,“But it could also be someone who’d just seen you around campus, someone who gave you a bad vibe. Someone who was jealous of Alex and Vicky. Someone Vicky turned down. Someone that Gabe had a fight with, or a disgruntled customer. Or I could be wrong and the police is right and it’s some random nutcase who thought your curtains were covered in satanic messaging compelling him to target your house.” 

Harry stifled a laugh at that. Their curtains had been hideous. Needed a bit of dusting, perhaps, but certainly no murder messages there.

“We won’t know until we investigate. And you can back out whenever you want. You know that, right?”

Harry knew, of course he knew. “You don’t have to keep saying that. I think it’s just. Hitting me a bit at different speeds.”

“As things come up, yeah? That’s normal.” He was still staring at him intently, and the corner of Louis’ mouth quirked briefly and Harry felt himself soften under his watchful eye. 

“Put him down as someone to look into.”

 

≈

 

They went their separate ways for the rest of the day. 

Louis was going to look into the company that installed the alarm at the co-op, and check if he could find any priors on any of the employees.

Harry had a therapy session and for the first time he came into a session with authority instead of waiting to be asked questions. The chair that he couldn’t get comfortable in previously now had the perfect bounce, and Harry easily settled into it. He didn’t plan on telling her about his and Louis’ investigation, but as soon as he sat down he felt it bubbling inside of his throat; trying to get out. 

His therapist seemed surprised, but didn’t press further, seemingly happy that his mood was lighter, which Harry took as a win. 

His mom called right on cue as they finished up. He let her speak without rushing her through her questions, a newfound patience settled in his chest.

He’d also gotten a call from the police department that the rest of his belongings had been cleared and were ready to be collected. 

He hadn’t been to the police station since they asked him to check out a lineup of suspects and it was unnerving being back. It looked the same; the same drab curtains and fake dusty potted plants. The one overhead light weaker than the others, making his eye twitch. It felt different though. No one was looking at him weird, or offering him a drink or a seat. In fact, no one was paying attention to him at all. 

He was told to wait while an officer went to retrieve his belongs from lockup, returning with two large transparent bags stuffed to the brim. He cradled one of the bags, pressing against the hard line of one of his books. It still had smears of fingerprint dust on it.

“This is a list of everything we took and everything we’re handing back,” the officer said and slid a paper over the counter to Harry. “You’ll have to sign before you take them.”

Harry nodded at that, and scanned the list. He couldn’t tell if anything was missing; it seemed rather meagre, to have all your things listed on paper like that, but the bags seemed full enough. He signed it.

The officer reached out to take the papers from him, but Harry pulled them back. 

“I was wondering, do you think I could take a look at my witness statement?” He asked, and the officer frowned. Her name tag read Mackenzie. Her red hair tied up in a tight bun.

“You’re not supposed to look those over unless matters go to court, and even then you’d only see it just before.”

“That’s a far way off though, isn’t it? I don’t need a copy or anything,” he said, softening his voice. “S’just I’ve been having trouble remembering what happened any my therapist thought it would useful for me to have a refresher.”

Mackenzie bit the inside of her cheek; she was caving, he could tell.

Harry continued, “She actually said she’d send in a request for me to have access to it… but since I was coming by for my things. I thought I’d ask.”

It was a tiny fib. They had discussed getting access to his statement but not actually outlined a plan for it yet. She was big on planning, his therapist. 

He tightened his hold on his bags as they slipped. Mackenzie’s eyes darted to them, and to his face. He tried to widen his eyes as much as possible without it coming off as too comical. 

He scratched his injured arm, and when her eyes tracked the movement he knew he had her. 

She sighed, “Okay, but you get ten minutes. And I’m going to be watching you read it so you don’t take notes.”

“Thank you,” he said with a blinding smile, and pushed the form in her direction. Mackenzie lead the way to a small waiting area--where he'd found his mom waiting after he was released from questioning. 

There was a vase with plastic flowers in the small table and a water cooler with paper cups. There was a basket with toys and children’s books that he hadn’t noticed before, no doubt for the children who were brought in to wait for their family. He wondered briefly how many people had been through this waiting room, and how many of them had happy endings. 

 

≈

 

“I like what you've done with the place,” Louis commented when Harry let him into his room. It was hard to believe it was his first time in Harry's room considering they'd been almost inseparable since they’d met, and yet, here they were.

“Just brought back most of that.”

Harry watched as Louis looked around him. he glanced at the desk chair but went to the bed, scooting back until his butt hit wall. 

He smoothed the sheets under his hand; one of Harry’s own that he’d brought back and laundered immediately. They’d felt and smelled stale and chemical, and he wanted them fresh again.

“How’d it go?” Harry asked.

“Bust on the alarm company. It’s a small business and the people they have installing them have no records. At least nothing significant.”

“Did they just tell you all of that?”

A single chuckle escaped Louis’ mouth and his smile split his face. “No, I’m not quite that charming. I mean I called them up and said I wanted to find the guy who installed my alarm, and got some details that way. And it’s pretty easy to find people online and check their criminal records.”

“Wow, I had no idea.” Harry wasn’t the biggest on sharing stuff online, but he could probably also be found fairly easily. And who knew how easily trackable the others had been. He pushed it out of his mind. “So what’s next?” 

“I’m still planning on seeing your old neighbours tomorrow. They might be able to fill me in on what happened.”

Harry tried to picture the neighbours. He’d only met a couple of them. There was another co-op a couple of houses over, so most of the people living nearby didn’t get invested in the students that lived there. Especially since the turnover was so high. Regardless, he couldn’t imagine them opening up to a stranger about what happened, especially considering the media frenzy they’d already experienced.

“They won’t talk to you.”

“They might not talk to Louis, sleuth extraordinaire, but they may talk to Louis-potential neighbour. I’m just concerned after all that happened, you know?” Louis affected an innocent face. Forehead wrinkled under the swooped hair, and eyes wider than Harry’d ever seen. He blinked and he looked completely innocent for a split second before he dropped the act.

“Wow. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. I just have to figure out the perfect outfit. Thinking suspenders. Possible a button up. Obviously keeping my hair like this.” He touched the edge of his hair flicking his wrist as he tucked it behind his ear. 

The visual affected Harry more than he expected, and he swallowed thickly. “Seems like a lot of work.” 

“It’s all in the details,” Louis said, and his sweet facade vanished behind a devilish smirk. He prodded Harry on the shoulder, his voice softening as he spoke, “How did your thing go? Get all your stuff in one piece?”

“Yeah, got it all, I mean I’m not sure if I want to keep all of it though.” He probably sounded ridiculous, but Louis didn’t seem phased at all. 

“Bad juju?”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“We can try to smudge them, that’s supposed to work.”

“You don’t have to pretend like you believe me,” Harry muttered.

“Harry. Why would I do that?” He looked concerned that Harry would think that. There was a line between his eyebrows and his mouth turned down.

Harry shrugged. “It just feels dumb. And I know we’re focusing on hard evidence. Not hocus pocus. This happened because someone decided that they wanted to kill. Not because of evil spirits.”

“It’s not mutually exclusive, you know. Just because a person acted out doesn’t mean it doesn’t have some spiritual repercussions.” He looked around, fingers drumming on one of Harry’s chemistry books. “My sisters would probably insist on having all your things smudged to cleanse them.”

“My sister too.”

“See? Smart women, those two. Listen to them. And to me,” Louis added with a crooked smile. “I think one of them left a sage stick in my room. Could always bring it over, get some cleansing going.” He narrowed his eyes. “Would have to keep Jesy out of the loop though, I think it’s probably a fire hazard.”

Harry barked out a laugh, and Louis seemed pleased. Harry had no idea what he’d do without Louis. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve him. 

“I also got to read my statement from that night.”

Louis’ mouth dropped open. “Really?” Harry nodded, biting his lip. “I’m sure you worked those baby greens at the police station, seems like I could use a lesson from you.”

“I think the cop pitied me, actually. So I don’t think that had anything to do with it,”

“And you used it to your advantage.” 

“Yeah.”

“That feel okay?” 

“I’m not sure. But I wanted to read it. Because I needed to be reminded. So that I could help more. You probably have so many questions that I could answer with those memories. I wanted them back.”

“Haz, I would never ask you to share that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I was doing this without you to begin with. You remember that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. But I want to.”

“So it helped?”

“Yeah. I mean, I guess it’s not the most reliable. Especially since most of it is still kind of hazy and I don’t know…” He didn’t want Louis to be disappointed. 

“‘S a bit like eyewitness testimony. Not supposed to be relied on too much.”

“Do you not want to hear?”

“No,” he licked his lips. He studied Harry’s face. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. I don’t want you to regret telling me anything.”

The air was thick around them, and this was exactly the feeling Harry wanted to avoid by not telling people. They hadn’t been like this since Louis found out but this, this must’ve been the breaking point. What if they were stuck like this? With Louis trying not to hurt Harry while Harry tried to hurtle himself through the wall he could picture rising between them.

Harry twisted the ring on his index finger, the metal warm after all of his fidgeting. 

Louis was still studying him carefully when Harry spoke, “It’ll help.” He tried to sound sure and determined, not entirely certain how well he pulled it off, considering the way Louis just blinked at him. 

“Okay, I believe you,” Louis spoke carefully. His mouth twitched. “Want to grab some food first? I’m assuming our appetite will be gone by the time you’re finished.”

Harry nodded at that. He hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, too consumed with trying to make amends with what happened. No wonder he’d been fading. There was a pinch in his stomach now, though, and he could certainly use some energy. 

“I was thinking of grabbing a shrimp burrito around the corner, they’ve got a two for one Sunday special.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Despite Harry’s stomach still being tense at the shift in mood, their excursion for dinner seemed to neutralize the air between them. He wasn’t sure if it was the air or the much needed calories that settled him down, but Louis’ behaviour told him he had nothing to be scared of. Louis wasn’t going to start treating him with kid gloves just because he knew the whole sordid affair. He was probably just starving, from the way he wolfed down the tortilla chips while his burrito was being prepared. 

Harry opted for a chicken and soy mix with extra cilantro. Louis wrinkling his nose at his choice. Harry thought they’d eat on the walk back, or in bed, covered by blankets, but Louis took a seat by the windows. Louis made Harry try his burrito, because he swore he’d found the best combination, shrimp with half the rice and twice the onion and guac.

By the time they were back in the dorms Louis took it upon himself to make them tea and he guided Harry back to his room. He scooted back onto Harry’s bed, as if that spot was now his completely. 

Harry expected Louis to still avoid the topic, but instead he asked, “It was a Thursday, right?”

Harry stepped further into the room, and dropped down onto the chair. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Tell me what you want.”

His mind went blank. Now that he was allowed to share he didn’t know where to start. He could feel his forehead tensing, a frown deepening as he thought about it. Louis must’ve sensed his distress as he patted the bed.

“Come over here.” He shifted away from the wall, and sat cross legged. Harry joined him on the bed, and faced him. He had his back against the headboard and kept his legs bent, the tips of his sock clad toes right against Louis’ thighs.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Okay. Tell me if you’re uncomfortable at all, alright?”

Harry nodded.

“What were you doing that day?”

“I had a seminar at noon. And two classes after that. Normally got home around five. It was really warm that day so I took the long way home. I stopped for ice cream at Frozen Dreams, you know that place?”

“Yeah, best sundaes in town.” Louis smiled broadly.

Harry nodded. “Hadn’t thought it’d be warm enough for ice cream in October, so I had to take advantage, you know? There was a line and everything. I even ended up taking off my coat on the way home because it was so hot.”

“I remember, yeah.”

“So I got home a lot later than normal. And I wanted to check in on the garden. We had these tomato plants that were going to bloom, wanted to check in on them. I just went around back and I dropped my coat by the door because I didn’t want it getting filthy.”

“How were the tomatoes?”

He smiled. “Nothing much, a few green ones. Could’ve used them for some salsa, but I really wanted to show off this tomato sauce I’ve perfected, you know? So not quite ripe enough for me. I just watered them a bit more.” He heaved a breath.

“Take your time.” Louis squeezed his hand.

“I uh, heard some commotion by the house. It sounded like someone stumbled out of the door, you know? And I thought they must’ve seen me through the window and wanted to say hi and then they got caught on that dumb coat. That's what saved me. I was right about that, at least.” His head was hurting now.

“It wasn’t your housemates.”

He shook his head. “No. It was him.” He swallowed thickly. Recounting the words that he’d read earlier in the day. He’d known, intellectually, that this is what happened. That his stupid stray coat saved him somehow. “When I turned around he was kneeling on the ground. I honestly--I don’t know what I thought? He was wearing a ski mask. I think my brain froze. I got up though, and I think I said ‘hey’ or something.” He paused, trying to recall. Things got a bit blurry with this. 

“I reached out to pull him up and he was really strong. And he stabbed me. He pulled himself up and then he stabbed me. And I think-- I kicked him. And his eyes were so dark. That’s all I could see, just how dark they were.”

He thumbed at the still healing wound on his arm. Cut straight through one of his tattoos. Louis pulled that hand away and cradled it between his.

“I think the kick spooked him. I mean, the tripping for sure threw him off at first, you know? And then I think the kick must’ve made me seem not scared? I was just so shocked.

“So he like, kicked me back and ran. I wanted to go after him but I just had a terrible feeling and I had to get inside. And see that everyone was okay. I called 911 to report a home invasion and an assault but--” he caught himself. “Did you listen to it?”

“What?”

“The recording. It’s public record, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Did you listen to it?”

“No. No, I considered that I might have to but I didn’t think it would be relevant, at this point.” Harry squeezed his hand. He knew Louis wouldn’t lie. He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the rest of what happened that day so he could be as precise as possible.

“I was on the phone with 911 when I found them. They asked me if anyone else was in the house and like, I figured they were but I wasn’t sure, right? Since I’d just gotten home. So I went in and-- I saw Vicky first. She was on the floor. Just between the threshold of the entryway and the living room. And I think I heard a scream and I thought there was someone else in the house but it was just me, because the lady on the phone kept asking me to calm down.”

He took a deep breath, opening his eyes only to be faced with Louis’ own staring intently at him. They were the clearest he’d never seen them. There was no pity in his expression,. There was a pinch in Harry’s chest.

“Do you want to stop?”

He had to clear his throat before continuing. “There’s not much else. They had me check her pulse. And of course she didn’t have one. At that point I was on autopilot. I checked the rest of the house and found the others. And I dripped blood all over the place because of my wound. The cops weren’t happy about that. They had to take me to the hospital to get stitched up, and they questioned me there. And later I had to go to the station for more questioning.”

It didn't feel good, exactly, but it felt liberating. To say out all out loud to someone he could trust, who wasn’t trying to corner him into a confession of some kind. 

“Thank you for sharing.” Louis squeezed harry’s hands gently. And that’s when he noticed that Louis’ phone was nowhere in sight. And he’s been holding onto him like a steady anchor while he spoke. He would have expected Louis to write things down or record him. 

“You didn't take any notes.” 

“Don't have to when I've got you do I? Unless now you've changed your mind? Was it too intense to relive it like that?

“No, I think it was good.” He grimaced. “That’s not really the right word. Maybe like, freeing? To talk about it with someone who isn’t trying to catch holes in my story.”

“I’m glad I could do that for you,” Louis said, and smiled tightly, lips thinning out. He looked down and squeezed Harry’s hands tighter. And all Harry could think was that he didn’t want him to let go.

“Do you think you could, stay?” 

“Yeah, sure.” That’s all Harry needed to hear before shuffling in closer, and falling into Louis’ embrace. His arms were anchored tightly around his back, thumbs gently rubbing circles below his shoulder blades. “You wanna sleep now?”

Harry nodded into Louis’ sweater. He smelled warm and tangy and just like his room. His grip loosened, and Louis pulled at a few of Harry’s loose curls.

“Okay, I should change into something a bit more appropriate and brush my teeth, ‘kay? I'll be right back.”

While Louis was gone, Harry changed into his own sleep soft t-shirt and sweats. It would be hot, but he didn’t want to make Louis uncomfortable with too much skin, since they’d have to make do with his single bed.

“My alarm is set for 8, I hope that’s not too early for you?” Louis asked as he dropped his phone on Harry’s desk, out of reach. One of them would definitely have to get up to turn it off.

“S’fine,” he said kicking his feet under the thin sheet. He rolled over onto his side, facing the wall. Trying to discern the quality of the paint from the small bumps in the wall. He tried to keep his breathing even as Louis climbed in behind him. 

Something inside his chest loosened, and his lungs filled easily with the weight of Louis’ arms around him. “You good?” Louis asked, and he was close enough that Harry could feel the puff of air on his neck. He nodded stiffly.

It was a tight fit, and he could feel his chest getting hot, but he couldn’t care less.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is one more chapter to go, thank you for your patience.
> 
> Again, thanks to A for looking this over for me!

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat that much,” Louis remarked at breakfast, studying Harry’s tray. On it there was a fruit bowl, scrambled eggs, a muffin and a cup of coffee. Harry might not finish it all, but he’d woken up with hunger sucking at the pit of his belly for the first time in a while. He’d already polished off two slices of toast, and he was still ravenous. 

Louis’ own tray just had a large bowl of mixed cereals, as always. And a refilled cup of coffee, since he’d gulped down his first almost immediately. His hair was still sleep rumpled, eyes a bit puffy. They’d had to make do with Harry’s single pillow, which Harry suspected cost Louis some sleep.

“Got to keep my brain nourished for learning, you know,” Harry remarked, waving a speared cube of cantaloupe in Louis’ face. Louis made a move to bite it off of Harry’s fork, and Harry gasped. “Get your own.”

“And here I thought that was an invitation.” Louis smirked into his coffee, taking a careful sip. He grimaced, putting it back down and tearing open a sugar packet, pouring it in. Harry hummed as he watched the way Louis’ fingers crumpled up the packet and placed it in the corner of the tray.

Louis continued, “Don’t think I’ve seen you this energized in, like, ever, either.” His lips were shiny as he slurped down his coffee, Harry decidedly not staring.

“Guess it did me good to talk things out.” 

“Mhm,” Louis chewed thoughtfully. “I’m glad. As long as you're not manic.”

Harry’s jaw dropped momentarily. “Louis. No.” He did not need this. “I already have a therapist okay, this is just. The regular me making an appearance. Stop. Worrying. About. Me.” He punctuated each word with a playful pinch of Louis’ loose shirt, not going for skin just the fabric. Louis squirmed regardless and caught Harry's wrists in his hands. 

“Okay! Okay, I get it.” Louis squeezed Harry’s wrists with intent before dropping them, and picking his cup back up. The touch still warmed Harry up, an unspoken reassurance that Louis meant well. 

“I only want to do this if we're on equal footing, you can’t be worried about me all the time,” Harry said although he wasn't quite sure that he could pull out now. It would sting, having to walk away from the investigation. Having to walk away from Louis.

“I promise.” Louis lifted his hand and offered up his pinky. “Pinky promise.”

Harry couldn't control the grin that spread over his face, but Louis didn’t seem to mind. He stuck his tongue out at him, which made Harry burst into laughter. He felt light, and it was unfamiliar but nice. Last night had helped Harry, there was no doubt about it, but Louis hadn’t said if it had been useful for their investigation. 

“Did it help? Like has it given you more ideas to narrow the search?” Harry tried not to sound too serious, as if it were a throwaway question. 

Louis slurped down the last of his cereal milk. He nodded slowly, sucking his cheeks in. “I think so. We’ve got some more factors to consider. This guy was experienced.”

Harry frowned. “How’d you mean?”

“You said he was wearing a ski mask, right? So. He knew there was a chance that someone would get away and he wanted to make sure they couldn’t identify him. That tells me he was prepared. And that doesn’t really sound like someone on a first time out.”

Harry continued to chew on his eggs, throat suddenly dry. He hadn’t really thought about it. His fork scraped against the plate, the piercing sound filling his head. “He could also be scared of being recognized.”

Louis nodded, lips rolled into his mouth. “Exactly.”

“Which means you’re probably right that it’s someone we knew. Or that he knew one of us.” 

“And he’s done it before. Or something like it, at least, and this is an escalation.”

Harry’s jaw felt tight, and he made an effort to loosen it. He’d done it before. He would probably do it again. He was glad they were in public, the chatter around them and scrape of the chairs against the squeaky floor enough to keep him calm. It wasn’t the place to freak out. So he wouldn’t. 

“How are we supposed to look for that? If he’s done it before and hasn’t been caught… How are we supposed to find him?”

Louis grimaced before biting down on his lips. He seemed to consider his words carefully. “I think our only legal option is looking through news archives.”

Harry swallowed thickly. He could barely taste his eggs anymore. “Our only legal option?”

“Yes,” Louis said with a clipped tone. Suggesting to Harry that he shouldn’t pry further. “So that’s what I’m gonna do today, hole up in the library ‘til close. Just look over archives. Just because he hasn’t been caught doesn’t mean he hasn’t been reported on.”

“I can help with that, been told my reading comprehension is quite good.”

A smile flashed over Louis’ face. “Yeah, don’t doubt it, but don't you have classes today?”

“Don't you?” Harry countered. 

“I’ve only got the one lecture this morning. S’why your alarm didn’t wake me,” Louis said, waggling his eyebrows. Right. Normally Harry would scramble to turn off his alarm before Louis turned his face into his pillow, burrowing away from the sound. 

Harry had a full day of classes ahead of him. His face fell. Louis said, “That’s what I thought.”

“There’s gotta be something I can do.”

“Just keep your eyes open, I guess? If anyone looks at you weird or follows you around.” Louis leaned back in his chair, foot nudging Harry’s. “But stay safe, most of all.”

 

≈

 

It was the first time Harry set foot on a bustling campus since he’d officially joined Louis’ investigation. The fog was lifted from his mind, the situation no longer abstract and out of his hands. He’d opened his eyes, and it was different, surveying the crowds and knowing that somewhere there was someone who wanted to do him harm.

Or wanted to at some point.

If not in this particular crowd, then somewhere out there. But Harry had a feeling it had to be someone on campus. How else would he and his roommates in particular have been targeted?

Harry kept his eyes peeled for anyone whose gaze lingered on him for longer than usual. He’d been doing this since the incident, but back then it was to see if they could tell that he was different, and back then he’d avert his eyes. He’d felt like he was branded with a large red **V** on his chest and had to hide it from those who paid close attention. 

Now he was staring right back, challenging anyone who met his eye. He felt emboldened, and with Liam at his side, undefeatable. Even though Liam had no idea what was going on, he still had the air of someone who could take you out, the swing of his shoulders as they walked enough to make Harry keep his own back straight.

“You alright today?” Liam asked in a concerned tone. He bumped his shoulder against Harry’s. 

“Yes.” Harry had to drag his eyes from a threesome of older boys sitting on a bench across from the auditorium. They’d looked in his and Liam’s direction and sniggered. He didn’t recognize any of them but still.

“You seem a bit like, spacey?” Liam narrowed his eyes and shook his head, continued, “No, it’s the opposite. Like hyperfocused. But not on anything we actually need to be focusing on.”

Harry opened the door to the auditorium and waited for him to step through. Liam kept glancing at him, as if he expected an explanation. 

“Just feel like some people are looking at me weird,” Harry said. It made him sound paranoid, but it was probably better than explaining that he was trying to figure out it if one of the people walking amongst them was a murderer.

Liam shot him an incredulous look over his shoulder. “Maybe it’s because you look like you’re possessed.”

Harry frowned at that. “I do not.”

They walked up the stairs and settled in the middle row of the hall. Books landing heavily on the fold out desks in front of them as they took their seats.

“I would think you’re trying to flirt but your eyes are mean. I’d be looking at you weird too, if you gave me that creepy stare.” 

Harry huffed and ignored Liam’s comment. He watched as Liam unwrapped the cellophane from his bagel and took a large bite. It’s not like Liam knew anything anyway. Harry had to be on high alert if he was going to succeed with this investigation; he didn’t want to hold Louis back. He needed to contribute more than his account of what happened. And he needed to be focused for that. Liam’s suspicions be damned.

Still, if Liam only just noticed that Harry was tense, it was possible that others would too. And that was counterproductive. Harry tried to relax in his seat, butt already aching from the stiff chairs. Sociology 101 was one of his least favourite classes because of the seats. But at least it was easy to get lost in the crowd and observe. 

Liam liked being early, which worked to Harry’s advantage, allowing him to study people as they filed in. He stilled in shock when he spotted Nick peeking into the hall. This wasn’t one of his classes, as far as Harry knew. He’d certainly never seen him in there.

Nick walked in and sat himself down in the front row. Unfolding his laptop on his lap, and resting a large takeaway cup on the small foldout desk. He shifted in his seat, taking a brief look around, and Harry kept watching him. He seemed normal enough. Aside from showing up to a lecture that he didn’t belong in. He didn’t seem to know anyone else, either. Although he nodded a hello to Ed when he walked in on the heels of the professor and settled on his seat in the front row. 

Harry tried his best to concentrate on the lecture, sneaking glances at Liam’s notes and copying them whenever he spaced out. He tried to think of whether Nick knew that Harry was in this class. But it’s not like he looked for Harry when he came in.Then again, if Nick already knew that Harry was supposed to be in this class there would be no reason for him to try and see if Harry was there. 

And if Nick’d been watching Harry he would already know. He could’ve been trailing him for months. Harry’s chest tightened at the thought of being observed without knowing, and he had to clamp his mouth shut, inhaling deeply from his nose. 

Harry had been watched, was the thing. Him and his housemates. It wasn’t some hypothetical relating only to Nick. It was real. 

Harry could feel his heart rate picking up, and counted to three as he held his breath and exhaled through his mouth. His nostrils were flared and he bit down on the inside of his cheek. Liam shot him a sideways glance, and Harry made an effort to poke his tongue out of his mouth. He wrote, BORING in block letters on his notepad. Liam nodded his agreement and returned his attention to the professor.

Harry repeated his breathing exercise and tried to focus on relaxing his shoulders and the muscles in his face and neck. If he stayed stiff he’d get a migraine. His free hand was curled up in a fist so tight his nails were digging into the meat of his palm. But at least he could focus on that sensation to keep him grounded.

Harry was in public, with Liam, no one was watching him. And even if they had in the past he was fine right now. He was in charge of things. And if Nick was involved in any way, he and Louis would find out. He’s sure of it.

There was nothing Harry could do right at this moment. He kept repeating that to himself, and he managed to fill half a page of his notebook with scattered sentences. He’d have to borrow Liam’s notes later, but for now at least his freak out was under control. That’s all that mattered. 

The class ended after an extended Q&A with the professor, that normally Harry would participate in. This time he was busy staring at Nick. When he got up to leave he scanned the hall, and made eye contact with Harry. His eyes widened briefly, and he adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag before taking long strides towards the exit. 

Harry quickly gathered his things, stuffing them into his bag. Liam seemed surprised, but was called on by the professor before he could protest Harry’s departure.

Nick had been closer to the exit, so Harry had to jog after him to catch up. 

“Nick!” Harry called out, and Nick stilled in front of him in the middle of the sidewalk. A girl walked right into him and scowled when they collided. He still didn’t turn around.

Harry circled him so they could stand face to face.

“Harry, hey. Hi. S’been awhile How are you?” Nick had a smile plastered on his face, the corner of his mouth twitching. He seemed eager to get away.

“Haven’t seen you in that class before.” It came out sharper than intended, and Nick’s smile faltered. 

Louis had told Harry not to interact with Nick, especially not if they were alone. But Louis wasn’t here now, facing a nervous Nick whose fingers were stroking the strap of his bag as if it were a lifeline. This was Harry’s shot, and possibly the only one he would get considering the way Nick tried to get away from him. 

“Just taking notes for a friend. Or well, a recording, really.”

“Prof Henderson doesn’t like audio of her lectures to be out there. It’s disrespectful to the students that ask questions,” Harry recited the speech the professor had given at the start of the semester, it was the only thing he could think of.

Nick ran his hand over his face and into his hair. Strands sticking up wildly. “Right. Well. It’s just this once. Couldn't quite be trusted for notes? I’ve got no idea what’s important.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Harry said, and if he thought Nick would seem more at ease after that statement he was wrong. He inhaled sharply before nodding briskly, not even looking at Harry. He had to do something. “Haven’t seen you in a while--”

“Yeah, yeah, been busy you know? ‘Ve got to go. Got another lecture at the New College building. A bit of a trek.” Nick started backing away, still facing Harry as he walked off. “S’good to see you though! Take care, yeah?”

He waved before turning around, heels of his shoes smacking against the pavement. 

“Fuck,” Harry muttered to himself, bringing his fist to his face. It could’ve gone worse, but not by much. He bit down on the knuckle of his thumb, standing in the middle of the sidewalk until Liam caught up with him. 

 

≈

 

“I give her six months tops,” Louis said, heaving his laundry basket by the machine. He started tossing things into it carelessly, not bothering to unroll his socks or zip up his hoodies or pants. 

Louis had been waiting for Harry at the dorms with his laundry at this feet. He then dragged Harry off to the basement laundry room, bribing him with a bag of sour patch kids. 

Not that Harry needed much bribing to come with, but Louis didn’t need to know that.

Harry bit into another piece of candy before asking, “Before she moves?”

Louis nodded. “I think she wants to leave now, but she knows no one wants to move in next to the murder house.” He winced after he spoke, shooting Harry an apologetic glance.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to live there either.”

“No, but she was so jittery. Case in point,” Louis said and pulled out a shirt with a large coffee stain on the front, marring the white fabric. 

“She did that?” Harry asked. He’d only seen their neighbor Maja twice while he’d lived at the co-op, but she always seemed so fierce and in control.

“Didn’t even get to taste it. I offered to give her a hand but she brought it over to the table and just… splat.”

Harry grimaced. 

“I’m not sure if this needs to be soaked first,” Louis commented, pressing the shirt down on the laundry table. “Picked this shirt on purpose, too. Always makes me look like a real non-threatening twink. Perfect for scoring. Figured it’d work for information gathering, too.” He pursed his lips in dissatisfaction. 

Harry ignored the visual that flashed in his head; Louis with the tight white shirt, leaning over a bar somewhere. Shirttails tucked into his pants that might gape a bit if he bent down-- no. He stopped himself there.

Harry cleared his throat before asking, “Did you rinse it out?”

“Did my best in their bathroom, was a bit difficult.”

“S’probably fine to just throw in the wash, then.” Louis balled up the shirt and threw it in the washing machine, slamming the door shut. Harry watching him measure detergent into the slot.  
He asked, “And you walked home in a wet shirt?”

“S’not like I was gonna ask them to borrow something. Could tell she wanted me gone. Might’ve done this on purpose, really.” Louis plunked change into the slots, said, “We really should be able to pay with our student cards or something.”

Harry watched as Louis punched in his settings. “I thought you were going to spend the day in the archives, not interviewing the neighbors?”

Louis sighed, and the machine roared to life. 

“The library was a bust,” Louis said, he pushed himself away from the rumbling machine and hopped on to the table, kicking at Harry’s thigh. Nothing hard, just a brush hello. 

“No relevant unsolved crimes?”

“More like too many of them. There’s no good way of narrowing it down either, since most papers don’t really report on methodology and like, other circumstances that would be relevant. And I don’t think it would be anything local, because if it was then I’m sure the cops would’ve found him already.”

“So now you do have faith in the police,” Harry teased.

“Well they’re not entirely incompetent.” Louis shuffled and tried to steer Harry closer with his legs, pushing against the outside of his thighs. “If I get into this crime solving thing I’m gonna have to deal with cops a lot. I need to believe in their abilities a little bit, at least.”

“Right. And nothing online?”

“I mean I checked the major outlets for stuff, but again. A bit hard to figure out what was relevant. And the time frame, too.”

“How’d you mean?”

“Well, we don’t know how old he is, do we? If he’s forty he could’ve been killing since he was a teenager. Or just had one outburst last year. Or just doing small time stuff and finally cracking now. That’s a lot of years to wade through. And we’ve got no idea where he’s been this whole time. Thought maybe a break with the neighbors would be a good idea.”

“Did you get anything out of her, at least? I think she was one of the few I saw hovering when they brought me out of the house, actually.”

“Just that she was scared. Still is.” Louis rubbed the heel of his hands into his eyes, and long whine escaping him. It sounded a bit like defeat. 

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Harry’s own voice sounded choppy to his ears. He flexed his thumb, not knowing what to do with his hands.

Louis’ hands dropped from his face immediately. He hooked his leg around Harry’s thigh and wouldn’t relent until he was facing Louis, slotted between his legs.

“No, H. Absolutely not. Just a bit tired, there’s been a lot happening and now I feel like we’re a bit stuck. That’s normal. Just got to think on it a bit. And I’ve been rambling non-stop too. How about you? How was your day? Not too tired from all that learning, yeah?”

Well. Louis’ expression was bright and expectant. He stole one of the sour patch kids from Harry’s grasp, tongue catching it before sucking on the candy. Harry averted his gaze, dragging his fingers over the back of his hand.

“I found Nick?” He tried to sound as casual as possible, but it probably didn’t work, considering Louis stilled immediately. He watched Harry carefully, waiting for an elaboration. 

Louis frowned, and shook his head minutely. “The guy we were gonna look into? Are you asking if you found him?”

Harry shook his head, inhaling deeply. “No, I mean, I did find him. Or ran into him is more accurate, I guess.”

“You didn’t speak to him, did you?” Harry sucked his cheeks in. He knew Louis wouldn’t be happy about him talking to Nick, but he didn’t expect the concern. 

Louis continued, tone pleading, “Harry, please tell me you were careful.”

”I did talk to him, but like. He was squirrelly.” Louis’ eyes burrowed into him as of her expected more.

“And?” He prompted, but Harry could only shrug. “Why did you think it was a good idea?” 

As far as questions went it was pretty mild. Louis’ face sift. Harry had expected a lecture, not this. 

“I… I asked if he wanted to catch up and then he bolted. He was in one of my classes. One that he doesn't go to and I guess. I wasn't sure if he was there for me. If he was following me.”

“But you hadn't seen him before then?”

Harry shook his head. “I wasn't really paying attention before, though. I've gotten a bit hyper aware since we started this.”

“Understandable. And aside him being squirrelly, what vibe did you get?”

“‘M not sure. I was trying to see if I could tell that he was hiding something? He mostly seemed nervous. He wouldn't look me in the eye and kept fidgeting. Last time I saw him he was so filled with bravado.”

“Last time like, the time he hit on you?” Louis asked, flicking his hair out of his face. His jaw seemed tight, and Harry wanted to clarify again that nothing happened, that he hadn’t been interested in the first place-- but that’s not what he asked.

“Yeah,” he breathed out instead, and observed Louis as he sucked on another piece of candy.

“Right. Have you heard of white coat syndrome?”

Harry shook his head, so Louis explained, “It's this condition where people's blood pressure increases when they talk to doctors, their bodies get this fight or flight response which means the results of any tests are questionable. The same thing applies to any authorities, really “

“And I'm the white coat in this scenario?”

“Yeah. That's why I wanted us to approach him together if we did at all. In a casual setting.”

“And here I thought it was because you were worried about me,” Harry teased. 

Color stained Louis’ cheeks, and his breath hitched. _Oh._

“That was part of it too. Just a tiny part.” Louis gestured with his fingers, pinching them close together. “Can't lose my partner in crime when I just got him, can I?”

Harry pushed his shoulder against Louis’. He was close enough that he could spot the frayed thread along the seam of Louis’ shirt. He didn’t want to back away, though. 

“Did I mess it all up then?” Harry asked. He sounded deflated, he knew, but really. The last thing he wanted was to slow things down, or god forbid, actually stop them from progressing.

Louis shook his head. He stole the bag of sweets and took one out. He made to throw it Harry, indicating that he should open his mouth. He did, and Louis tossed a piece of candy right into his mouth. 

“He’d be nervous being faced with you regardless, I think he must’ve just gotten a bit spooked. But he’ll calm down again. Next time we should approach together, if at all.”

Harry knew that Louis meant well, he did, but he still didn’t feel quite right about this. “I’m the one he knows, Lou, and if we go together it’ll be like an ambush.”

“I could ask him about Nate. You said they were friends I could just, you know, share my condolences and see how he reacts.”

Sounded good in theory, but in practice… Harry bit down on his lip. “Not to be difficult, but what happened today when you tried to talk to my old neighbours?”

Louis’ mouth dropped open before he shook his head. “That was an anomaly. My charm and pleasant demeanor normally works wonders on everyone.” 

It sounded like a line Louis had used before, but Harry couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He tamped down on it, not wanting to be too obvious with how well Louis’ charm had worked on him. Before Louis could catch on, he changed the subject and asked, “You said before this was the only legal way you knew. What’s the other way?”

Louis sucked in his cheeks and studied him carefully. 

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Well, you said you weren’t giving up. And you said this research didn’t work. Which I think leaves this, whether it’s a good idea or not.”

Louis tapped his fingers against the dryers, seemingly considering it. “I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“I think I have the best excuse to get into trouble, though. Who’s gonna punish the sole survivor of a violent killing spree?”

Louis’ face cracked, a bark of laughter escaping before he covered his mouth. Harry wanted to hear him laugh, though. He continued, “I probably wouldn’t even have to say anything. The cops would think it was a side effect of the trauma or something.”

“ _Harry_.”

Harry shrugged easily, he couldn’t control his smile, mouth tugging to one corner. To anyone else it would probably look insane considering what he just said but Louis just kept shaking his head, his own mouth twitching. 

“You’re not as innocent as you lead on are you?” Louis asked. Harry took that as a compliment. Louis studied him carefully as he plucked out another piece of candy and crumpled up the bag.

“Was that the last one?” Harry asked and Louis nodded. At that, Harry snagged the crumpled bag and tipped the remaining contents over Louis’ head. The sugar grains sticking to his hair as his mouth dropped open.

“I thought you’d figured that out already.” Harry teased and didn’t even try to wipe the smile off of his face. “Might as well use it to my advantage, you know. Got nothing to lose even if we get caught.”

“Oh, you think you can just pick that conversation back up like nothing ever happened?” Harry didn’t even try to wipe the smile off his face. Louis pointed at him with a stern face. “I’m not falling for that, you’ve exposed yourself already, pal,” Louis said.

Harry could tell Louis was going to attack, so he tried to tackle him still, but Louis managed to slip through his arms and they ended up with Harry crowded up against the wall, Louis leaned over, shaking his hair out in Harry’s face as Harry’s eyes were screwed shut.

Harry didn’t even try to get away, sugar sticking to his face, and some even landing in his mouth as he laughed heartily. 

 

≈

 

”Let me get this straight,” Zayn said, huddling closer to Louis. He glanced at Harry across the table before turning his head and speaking almost right into Louis’ ear. “You want me to hack into ViCAP?”

“No, not exactly… I want you to hack someone who has access to ViCAP so we can get some files.”

Zayn blinked, mouth twitching before he took a drink. “Sounds much more simple, that.”

“I know you like a challenge.” Louis kicked Harry’s calf under the table, and Harry realized he was probably staring at Zayn. He cast his eyes down to his own pint, slipping his fingertip along the base of the glass, trying to seem inconspicuous. 

Zayn glanced at Harry and cradled his pint. “And this one’s in on it? How do you know you can trust him?”

“You can trust him,” Louis said, and Harry felt warmth blossoming in his belly. It didn’t matter how many times Louis said it, or implied it. Knowing that he wanted Harry to be involved was a comfort every time. Him telling Zayn that he was trustworthy carried even more weight, considering.

When Louis told him they’d be meeting with his former roommate and current best friend, he didn’t expect Zayn. He didn’t expect how intensely Zayn would be scrutinizing Harry either, and how easily he slung his arm around Louis’ shoulder. 

The conversation so far had been almost an exact echo of the one Harry and Louis had when Louis explained what the plan was. Harry’s not quite sure of the logistics behind hacking into a government database. On the one hand, it felt nice to know that Zayn shared his concerns. On the other, it didn’t feel like a good sign that Zayn, the one who was supposed to actually do the hacking, was asking the same questions.

They’d occupied a corner booth in one of the seedier student bars that were less scrupulous about checking ID, where no one came to strike up conversation with strangers, rather huddled with their drinks close to their chests, nestled into booths. Where they would be left alone. 

Which they were now. It was still early enough that that the place was mostly empty, a couple of older guys at the bar. Despite Louis’ assurances Zayn still seemed suspicious of Harry. 

As Louis’ former roommate he'd been around when Louis started his investigation, and didn’t trust anyone else to get involved. 

It was foreign, seeing Louis cosy with someone else, which just reminded Harry of how fresh their friendship was. How many people whose names Harry didn’t even know that Louis held dear. 

Louis easily moved in Zayn's personal space, stealing sips from his ale, tongue poked out at him.

“Why don’t I get us another round?” Harry asked as he got up. Zayn’s sharp gaze followed him. 

“Put it on my tab, get some fries too,” Louis said, and Harry nodded easily. As he walked toward the bar he wondered if Louis would tell Zayn who Harry actually was. It was a brief pinch of a panic, though, quickly transforming into guilt at the thought. Louis wouldn’t betray him like that. 

There was no line at the bar, which would mean Harry’d be done in a minimal amount of time. He needed to give them some time to figure things out, so he bypassed the bar and headed to the bathroom. He didn’t have to piss, but he washed his hands carefully, and studied his hair in the mirror. He noticed a pimple on his face, fingers itching to press against the tender skin. Just as he was about to, the door swung open and Nick stepped in. 

“You’re impossible to find, you know that?” Nick asked and this time the panic was a noose around Harry’s neck.

“Nick,” he managed to huff out with a long exhale. He expected to be pounced, or slammed against the wall or just-- anything. The one time he stepped away from Louis is the time he was found. He wasn’t ready for this. He gathered himself before speaking again. “Can we not do this here?”

Nick blinked, hands running over his face. “I need to talk to you in private.”

He looked scared. Not like someone who would hurt him. But still. Harry thought of Louis’ words earlier, about how he was worried for Harry. And he was just twenty feet away across the bar. 

His voice was steady when he spoke. “Nick. If you want to talk to me you’ll have to come out and sit at my table. Can you do that.”

Nick’s palm stilled over his mouth. “You’re not alone, though. Don’t know those people.”

“You were watching me?” He tried to stay calm. He really did. But clearly Nick had been watching and following him for God knows how long. He might even know where Harry was staying. He tried to remind himself that he was in public. Louis and Zayn knew where he was; if something happened, if he was gone too long, they’d come looking for him. He was fine; he would be fine.

Nick rolled his eyes, far too casual for the situation, Harry thought. “It’s only fair, isn’t it? You were giving me ghoulish stares in class.”

So he had noticed Harry’s presence. He wasn’t sure if he should feel comforted of afraid about that. “Excuse me?”

Nick laughed humorlessly, hand waving about. “You cannot tell me that wasn’t on purpose.” 

He was agitated now, fingers pushing into his hair and messing it up. One side of his collar poking up above his jacket. The hem of his shirt was uneven, as if he’d buttoned it wrong. He wasn’t the one calling the shots here; Harry was. 

“You know what. That’s beside the point. We’re not doing this in here.” Harry moved past Nick, shoulder bumping into his. “Either you can follow me now, or I’ll have to see you later. It’s up to you.”

Harry didn’t look behind him when he left. He stopped by the bar and placed his order, carrying over two beers to their table. Louis was alone, leaned against the wall. He didn’t seem concerned, at least. 

“Where did Zayn go?”

“He had to go do some research.”

Harry opted to take Zayn’s empty spot, pressed up against Louis’ side instead of across from him. He could survey the rest of the bar more easily that way. 

“So he’ll do it?”

“Yeah.” Louis’ mouth quirked into a smile. His lips wrapping around the mouth of the bottle. 

Louis paused after taking a drink, eyes darting over Harry’s shoulder. “Someone’s staring at you.” 

Harry started to turn around and Louis put his hand on his arm, stopping him. He reprimanded, “Don’t look.” 

“Is he tall and thin? Trenchcoat? A bit of a manic look?” 

Louis nodded behind his bottle before putting it down. 

“It’s Nick.” Louis blinked in surprise before frowning. Harry continued, “We spoke in the bathroom. Told him he’d have to come out and talk to us both if he wanted to say anything.”

The muscles of Louis’ face slackened, and he leaned over the table, shouting, “Oi! Nick. Come over here.”

Nick seemed startled at being called out and took one of the chairs, sidling up to the table. “Was waiting for the bartender,” he said by way of an excuse for his lingering.

The bar was still empty. 

“Harry tells me you wanted to talk?”

Nick’s eyes went from Louis’ face to Harry’s. “Yes. I want to talk to _him_.”

Harry knew that Louis wouldn’t leave them. He knew. Still, his hand wrapped around Louis’ knee, squeezing tightly at Nick’s declaration. He seemed to have rid himself of his nerves from the bathroom, brows furrowed and expression determined. 

“I can keep my mouth shut but I’ll be staying here,” Louis said, and propped his leg up on the bench. He grabbed his beer with one hand, and his other hand disappeared into his pocket. Harry could tell that he was taking out his phone, getting ready to record their conversation. 

“Who is that guy?” Nick asked Harry, while still eyeing Louis suspiciously.

He considered telling the truth, but Nick didn’t deserve that. Instead, he said, “He’s my bodyguard.”

Nick seemed taken aback, palm flat on the table. He dragged his hand towards himself and it fell into his lap. It said a lot about the situation they were in that Nick seemed to consider Harry’s statement. “He wasn’t with you in class.”

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, and Louis poked his thigh with his toes. He could tell without looking at him that he was probably smirking. He had to stop himself from smiling as well. 

Nick seemed to consider this. There was no way he could confirm that Louis hadn’t been there. He glanced at Louis suspiciously. Clearly, he still wasn’t confident enough to directly argue with Harry about it. “Should he be drinking then?”

Harry sighed. “That’s not your concern. ‘Sides he has great reflexes. What did you want to talk about.”

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I-- was caught off guard.” Nick swept his tongue over his lower lip and ducked his head. His hands were clasped and he was staring at them intently. 

Harry sneaked a glance at Louis, only to see him watching Nick carefully. Paying immense amounts of attention. 

Louis pinched Harry's arm lightly, his lips rolled into his mouth. He was asking permission to pipe in.

”Go ahead,” Harry said, and Louis turned to Nick.

“How did you find Harry? Here?”

Nick seemed to relax at the question; it clearly wasn’t the attack he was expecting. “I wasn’t looking for him. I mean-- I was, I tried looking him up.” He flashed a smirk in Harry’s direction, said, “I mean you’re a bit hard to locate, you know.”

“It’s called security measures,” Louis snarked and Harry could practically feel his defenses rising. He could tell he wanted to say more. But he stilled him with a hand on his knee.

“You could’ve sent me a message online,” Harry suggested. 

“They can track those,” Nick said, the tendril of paranoia making his voice crack. “I don’t really-- I’m sorry, but I don’t want people to know about this. It’s just luck that I saw you go in here. And then that you went to the bathroom.”

“Where you ambushed me.”

“That wasn’t an ambush.” Nick raised his eyebrows and threw his hands out. “What you did outside lecture, that was an ambush. A bit uncalled for.”

Harry almost laughed but it stuck in his throat. Of course. Of course Nick was the victim in this situation. “You realize I basically lost all my friends, was attacked myself, and you’re the only one who knows about it and you haven’t even said anything. Sorry if _I’m_ not being polite enough for you.”

Nick’s stiff shoulders drooped. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“Same.”

Louis cleared his throat. “Is that what you wanted, Nick? To apologize for your behaviour?”

Nick blinked, the lines on his face making him look tired, more than Harry remembered. He must’ve not been doing so well either. “No. I mean, yeah, that too. But mostly just wanted to say I’m sorry for what happened.”

“It’s been over a month, and you only think to offer your condolences after Harry already approached you? Awfully genuine, that,” Louis spat out. 

Nick’s head dropped, and he dug his nails into the table. Worrying lines along the soft wood. “That’s not why.”

Louis’ made a skeptical expression, mouth turning up at the corners. Harry asked, “Why, then?”

“I mean, yes. It probably would’ve been a while longer if I hadn’t seen you but. I was going to talk to you, anyway, now that they caught the guy.”

“Right,” Harry said, as he felt Louis’ leg stiffen up under his grip. 

“The cops brought me in for questioning, I don’t know if you know that. And I was just scared.”

Louis sucked his cheeks in, as if in understanding. “Did they tell you not to speak to me?” Harry asked, wanting clarification.

Nick tilted his head from side to side, lips pinching as he narrowed his eyes. “Not explicitly. But it wouldn’t look good, would it? A suspect talking to the only survivor. The only suspect, at that time.”

Harry shook his head. “You know they never asked about you. They showed me a bunch of mugshots. No one even looked like you.”

Nick leaned back in his chair, a his top lip protruding. “I didn’t know. They didn’t… arrest me or anything. But they strongly intimated that they might.”

“They didn’t, though did they? They brought me in for questioning too, you know. Like, they thought I did it and stabbed myself as a way out.”

Nick’s face was neutral, as if he couldn’t really process the information. His hands clasped, still. He sniffed and glanced at Louis, who had gone still next to Harry. 

This was the moment the waitress came by to drop their basket of fries on the table, and the interruption seeped all the remaining energy from Harry. He could feel it radiating off of him in waves. 

He huffed out a breath. He was tired. He was tired of fighting all the time. And having to console Nick and tell him that it was okay that he dropped him cold wasn’t something he had the energy to do. He just didn’t care. 

Nick took one of the fries and dunked it into the mayo that came with it. He cupped a hand under it as he brought it to his mouth, as if his only concern was whether he’d spill on his shirt. He didn’t have anything to worry about anymore. He’d apologized to Harry; the police had dismissed him as a suspect. He could just go on with his regular grad student life, and file this under ‘fucked up things that happened to me, once’. All he needed was the okay from Harry and he’d be able to move on, just like that.

“I think we’ve heard enough,” Louis said sternly, as if he’d read Harry’s mind, and Nick chewed carefully. 

“Haz?”

“You should go.”

“I’ll see you around, yeah?” Nick said, casually as he got up, adjusting his coat. He already looked like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

How Harry longed to be in that position. 

When Harry didn’t answer, Nick spoke to Louis, “Nice meeting you. Keep him safe, eh?”

The corner of Louis’ eye twitched as he watched Nick walk away.

“What a dickhead,” Louis said after turning off the recording on his cell phone. He pushed the basket of fries Harry’s way. 

He didn’t want to think about Nick anymore, and he could tell Louis wasn’t keen on the subject ether. He dropped his phone in his pocket, and fisted his beer bottle. He watched at Harry fiddled with the label on his, waiting for him to speak.

They hadn’t closed the subject on Zayn, so Harry had to ask, “So Zayn will do it?” His voice hoarser than he expected. He took a long drag from his beer, hoping to get the blockage in his throat down.

“He has incentive,” Louis teased, and wiggled his eyebrows as he took another long drink of his beer.

It could be innocent, of course. But still, that word did something to Harry’s insides. A zip of jealousy passed through him and he stiffened up involuntarily. He could picture what might have happened while he was gone; Zayn leaning in close to Louis now that they were alone. So close that Louis’ hair brushed against his forehead. Zayn would’ve slid his hand along Louis’ thighs and be on the receiving end of Louis’ crinkly eyed smile. The one that made Harry’s pulse stutter. He gulped down a breath, trying to stop his imagination from running wild.

“You're not-- like. Sleeping with him are you?” Harry wrinkled his nose. “For his help I mean. Not that there's anything wrong with him. I don’t think.”

“My goodness Harry are you jealous?” Louis’ voice was high and reedy, and it also wasn’t a denial.

“‘M not.” Harry tore off the label on his beer, shredding the the paper to tiny strips. Louis watched him carefully. 

“Zayn's never gonna take your place as the right hand man. You don’t have to worry about that. He didn't want to get involved when I started investigating. He's not going to now.” He paused, shaking his head. 

That’s not what Harry was worried about, really, but he couldn’t quite verbalize it yet, the uneasiness settling into his skin. 

Harry stared meekly at the table in silence, and Louis changed tactics, asked, “What do you think that girl’s major is?” He nodded his head towards a redhead at the bar who was decidedly underage, judging from her poorly concealed glee at receiving her drink order. Her hands were full as she walked towards the back of the bar. 

“Undecided,” Harry mumbled. Louis pushed the basket of fries towards him 

“What about that guy?” Louis asked, tipping his chin at a boy in an ill-fitting jacket, who kept adjusting his belt.

“Engineering.” He picked up a fry, his appetite rearing its head again now that Louis was pressed closed to his side, giving him his undivided attention.

He hated how easy he was for him.

Louis’ eyes sparkled as he narrowed them, squinting at the stranger. “Hmm, bold guess.”

So they continued, Louis refusing to leave until Harry’d eaten at least half of the basket of fries, and gotten two more beers in him. He got buzzed easily, his tolerance low since he hadn’t really had the opportunity or desire to drink much since the incident. It wasn’t pleasant, envy snaking through his veins despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. 

His inhibitions lowered, he slipped his hand into Louis’ when they left, under the guise of pulling him through the door. Louis didn’t let go as they walked back to the dorms. It could have been Louis wanting to keep Harry steady on his feet or keep his gloveless fingers warm. Harry didn’t care much.

“You and Zayn were cosy,” Harry said matter of factly as he stepped into his room. The door was still open but he didn’t care, pulling off his shirt and tossing into the laundry basket at the foot of his bed. 

Louis grimaced, cocking his head. “Giving the whole hallway an eyeful, are you Styles, must be drunker than I thought.” 

He closed the door behind him. “You were though. Cosy.” Louis was ignoring his comment, and he didn’t like how it made him feel. All he knew was that Louis and Zayn were friends. But he didn’t know what kind of friends. Were they friends who sometimes kissed? Who sometimes fucked? Friends who were waiting for the right time to be more? Or who were more, already, but just didn't want to tell others? 

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the thoughts. The possibilities gnawed at his insides, his ribs aching with it. Surely, Louis wouldn’t be like this with him if he and Zayn had something going on?

Gum, he needed gum. He went to his desk, picking out a packet and popping two pieces in his mouth. “You want one?” he asked Louis.

He shook his head, tongue pushing out the corner of his mouth before he bit down on his lip. “Harry, you’re drunk. Are you going to be okay?”

Harry nodded vigorously, his head swimming lightly. He was just pleasantly buzzed, not at all as drunk as Louis seemed to think. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, hand resting on the doorknob. 

He shifted his weight and his hand slipped. That was all that Harry needed, pulling him away from the door. 

Harry stopped him, pulling him away. “No, you should stay. Sleep better with you here.”

Louis seemed to hesitate for a moment. Eyes darting over Harry’s face, and then his chest. A soft exhale escaping his lips before he bit down. “Okay.”

That’s all Harry needed to hear, pulling him into a tight hug. Whatever was or wasn’t going on with Zayn, Harry’s the one that Louis was spending the night with. His neck is the one Louis laughed wetly against. Harry dug his chin against the back of his neck and Louis brought his hands to Harry’s bare chest to push him away.

They were warm, so warm, and gone far too soon.

“I still need to get sleep clothes, okay? And probably some water and aspirin for you.”

He was still touching Harry’s chest, fingertips against his collarbones. Harry had to stop himself from closing his eyes and pushing into the touch. “Okay,” Harry said, and nodded sternly, and Louis dropped his arms right away.

He got into bed while Louis was away, keeping his back to the door. An invitation for Louis to slide in behind him and pull him against his chest. He could sense Louis’ hesitation when he came back. There was a beat of silence when he closed the door behind him. Harry moved the sheet as an invitation, and Louis’ sidled up to him, quietly. The warm press of his body against Harry’s grounding him.

≈

 

It took less than two full days for Zayn to get back to Louis with the ViCAP data he asked for.

Two days during which Harry very purposefully did not bring up his momentary bout of jealousy. It wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic for him, but in this context it was completely unwarranted. He knew, logically, that there was nothing to be jealous of. Mostly because had no claim to lay on Louis, and there was nothing indicating that anything was wrong.

Aside from his gut feeling. Although, Harry wasn’t so sure how much he trusted that anymore.

But logic was on his side. Louis spent most of his evenings with Harry. Surely, if he were seeing Zayn, Zayn would want some nights to himself? At the very least there would be some sleepovers.

Still, Harry was concerned that the green eyed monster would rear its head at an inopportune time, so he tried to place some distance between himself and Louis. Which Louis didn’t seem to allow; wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders at the library, picking up tea for him and walking him to class. “S’about time you get an escort,” he said, which made Harry’s chest swell with an unfamiliar feeling. Although it could easily be code for ‘just so you don’t get into more trouble’, the way Louis’ knuckles would brush against his arm still made his pulse rocket. 

On the first night they tried sneaking into an advanced film screening on campus, Louis revealing his plan of bringing spiked drinks and snacks with them to Harry at lunch. They deserved a break, he said, and it’s not like they could do much anyway, other than stare themselves blind at the existing information they already had. 

“There is such a thing as overdoing it, which goes for studying, too,” Louis said as he screwed the coke bottles they were bringing with them shut. He wrinkled his nose. “Shit. S’probably not something I should tell a freshman, is it?”

Harry rolled his eyes but huffed out a laugh. 

They hadn’t gotten tickets, and Louis didn’t manage to sweet talk their way in, the ticketing volunteer eyeing them both suspiciously as Louis tried to explain that they got e-tickets but he was out of data so he couldn’t pull it up on his phone. 

Harry had to pull Louis away; he could tell the volunteer wouldn’t cave and that she wasn’t buying a word Louis was saying. Harry steered Louis away, trying hard not to crack up. His forehead was tense with how deeply he was frowning. “This is the second time this supposed Tomlinson charm of yours has failed us. Have you been lying to me?”

Louis gave him a sharp look, brows furrowed. “Maybe you’re just my achilles heel, did you think of that, dear Harold? Hmm?” He intoned, and Harry shook his head, hoping his hair covered the his face.

They parked themselves on a bench not too far from the venue. They’d made it out there to begin with, it would’ve been a waste to go all the way back to the dorms just to commandeer the common room. Louis straddled the bench so he could face Harry and brought his backpack between his thighs. He pulled it open, and tipped it towards Harry, giving him first dibs.

Harry grabbed one of the spiked coke bottles and gulped down half easily under Louis’ watchful eyes. 

“Should I be concerned?” Louis asked, quirking his brow. He took a sip from his own bottle, bringing the back of his hand to his mouth. 

“Crap snack selection this is,” Harry commented, opening up one of the bags of M&Ms and tossing them in Louis’ direction. He opened his mouth to catch them, as of the distraction were welcome.

It's all he wanted, really, not to think for a night. Not to worry about Louis speaking up to clear the air about what was going on, or rather, not going on between them. Harry’s heart hammered in his chest at the memory of his jealous outburst. He didn’t want to hear what Louis had to say about it, not yet. 

If he was going to get his heart broken he wanted it to wait until they’d found the killer, at least. 

They went their separate ways that night, Harry practically barricading himself into his room. Louis must’ve sensed Harry wanted to be alone, since he didn’t ask if Harry wanted to stay with him. It was good. Harry needed to figure out how to be alone, even if he didn’t want to. He couldn't ask Louis to be there for him when there was no reason for him to be. Louis didn’t owe him that, and Harry wasn’t entitled to it. That’s what he kept repeating to himself, even as his insides hollowed out with _need_ and _want_. 

He could be rational. He could detach himself from his emotions, if he needed to. And God, did it seem like he needed to right now. 

They met up for breakfast, as usual, and Harry did his best not to let all his feelings spill over. It seemed the more he tried to pull away, the harder it was to control himself when he did see Louis. Harry flinched when they both reached for cups, and Louis frowned at him, pulling away on his own. 

“You go first,” Louis said, and backed away, grabbing a bowl. Instead of squeezing past Harry to get to the cereal bar, he took the long way around, and Harry watched on, deflated. 

He ended up grabbing a cup of coffee for Louis as well, to make up for any lingering awkwardness. Louis seemed surprised when Harry joined him at his table, and Harry tried not to get hit too hard by it. Things weren’t quite working out the way he’d intended them to. 

Louis muttered his thanks and grabbed the cup. Harry’d already put in the right amount of milk and sugar, and he watched as Louis swallowed it happily. He hoped it counted for something. 

“I was gonna ask if you could meet up with Zayn--”

“Yeah?” Harry perked up. Louis’ expression seemed to cloud, and he nodded slowly.

“Wasn’t sure you’d want to,” Louis said and the guilt burrowed into Harry’s chest. Louis definitely noticed then, which is not what Harry wanted. He wanted a new normal, not… Louis to feel uneasy with him. “This afternoon?”

Harry tried to keep his tone light as he said, “‘F course.”

Louis still seemed a bit hesitant, but he still continued, “Right, okay. I’ll give you his number then, and you guys can sort it out. I’ve got class until six so I can’t get anything from him today. Don’t really want to throw away another night.” He spoke with stiff shoulders, different from last night when they were trading bags of Doritos on their bench. 

Harry tried to not let it get to him. It’s what he wanted, really. Even if his lips pinched at the implication that a night not working towards the investigation was a waste. That’s what they were working, towards, after all. He had no right to expect anything beyond that. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Harry said, and Louis nodded along. 

“I’ll let him know.”

 

≈

 

Zayn requested that they meet at the dorm even though it was out of the way for him because he didn't want to risk exchanging information in public.

It made Harry's fingers itch. All throughout morning classes and the impromptu lunch he had with Liam. He didn’t really want to have lunch with Liam, his nerves fraying and worry at it showing, since Liam apparently was paying attention to Harry's moods. But Liam had seemed so concerned when they’d parted last, and he insisted on buying lunch because of some drinks Harry’d covered on some night out and well. It was hard to turn down a chicken salad sandwich and a Dad's root beer. Harry ended up pinching at the fabric of his jeans as he listened to Liam talk about the concerts he was excited about and winter break, and before he knew it lunch was over and he hadn’t had a nervous breakdown, so. Lunch had perhaps been a success after all. 

Harry got to Louis’ room just in time to pace mindlessly and tidy up a bit, and talk himself off the ledge. He wasn’t sure what he expected, exactly, some sort of gauntlet being dropped for Louis’ affections, perhaps, but it was utterly anticlimactic.

Zayn had a small external data drive with him, and he placed it into Harry’s hands with little fanfare as soon as the door closed behind him.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” Zayn told Harry, looking around Louis’ room. Which-- what? “The mess isn’t as bad as it used to be.”

Yes, sure Harry might’ve helped to tidy up a bit. It was important for him and Louis to separate their schoolwork from their investigation and from each others, since they would work together from time to time. It was only natural that if you were to keep track of stacks of paper you’d also move pens to their cups, clothes from the chair and into the hamper, and keep phone and laptop chargers in a basket so they wouldn’t get lost in the madness.

But Zayn seemed to be suggesting something else, as he eyed the made bed and Louis’ still messy one. He sat down on Harry’s bed. Or well. The bed that Harry slept in when he spent the night, because it wasn’t his and he didn’t live there. Which is what Zayn seemed to think. 

“I don’t live here,” he sputtered out, and Zayn hummed, tipping his head.

His fingers push at Harry’s eyeglass case on the nightstand. Next to Harry’s watch. And his water bottle. 

None of this was helping Harry’s case.

Zayn didn’t seem particularly bothered, just pushed himself back so he had his back against the wall. 

Harry asked, “D’you miss it at all?”

Zayn’s brows furrowed for a second. “The dorms? Not at all, my bed at home is bigger. Jesy was pretty fun though, she's still around, yeah?” Harry nodded along, trying to make sense of why Zayn was telling him this. Zayn tilted his head. “Does he still talk in his sleep?” 

Of course Zayn knew about Louis’ sleeping habits if he used to room with him. It didn’t mean anything. Neither did it mean anything that Zayn was observing Harry. Not looking at him, observing. It unsettled him, and he was grateful for his gum, allowing him to keep his face relaxed. 

“I haven’t heard anything.” 

Zayn seemed to consider this. He looked at the poster board that now lived permanently on the wall. Fingers skimming over some of the new clippings, and the struck out suggestions. He tugged at a paper with Harry’s handwriting on it. Just a thought he’d had while he was waiting for Zayn to arrive. Zayn was barely paying attention to him, and still, it felt like he was being assessed.

Eventually, Zayn faced him again, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “He wouldn’t tell me why you’re helping him out.”

Not quite as accusatory as Harry expected. Tentatively, he asked, “Do I need a reason?”

Zayn looked him up and down, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “One usually has a reason for getting involved in something like this. But I guess s’not so much your reason as to why he’d let you join that I’m curious about.”

Harry shrugged. There was nothing incriminating him on the poster board but his skin crawled nonetheless as he watched Zayn’s eyes scan it. “Just don’t let him down, I guess. It means a lot to him.”

“It means a lot to me too.” 

Zayn seemed to consider this, his expression belied his disbelief, but he didn’t speak up about it. “I expect updates when you guys figure it out,” he said before leaving. 

Harry shoulders and chest loosened when Zayn left, and he hadn’t even realized he’d been tense. And on another level, he didn’t realize that being in this room, specifically, was what allowed him to relax. 

By the time Louis got back Harry had split up the files onto two different USB sticks. He hadn’t bothered to start looking at them, not knowing exactly what to expect, but also too busy thinking about how he really had infiltrated Louis’ life. Or at least, his room. He hadn’t had to get anything from his room because he’d left his laptop there. Hell, he even had a toothbrush in the ensuite. No wonder Louis reacted badly to him pulling away. 

He tried not to think about it too much, and Louis seemed back to normal when he sat on his own bed, armed with his loaded USB. 

“He was really fast,” Harry commented, as he Louis got settled.

Louis laughed, said, “He tries to act like things are too difficult but he’s always on top of it. Wants to control expectations, I think. And the two step process was a challenge for him, I think.”

“Wouldn't it have been easier to just hack into the database directly?”

“Into the FBI?” Louis’ eyebrows were raised. “I mean he could do it. But I think that would be even riskier.“

The only sound in the room was the clicks from their touchpads, and Harry scrolled through the files There was a lot. He swallowed reflexively, not knowing where to start or what to expect.

Louis said, “I asked for male victims, knife attacks, daytime attacks, close to university campuses. Going back fifteen years, just to be thorough. And it’s nationwide, but let’s mark things nearby more urgently.”

Fifteen years. Harry swallowed reflexively. Each filename was just a string of numbers, but inside there would be details of a crime that either took someone’s life too soon, or that they survived and have been trying to get past ever since. He probably had a file, he realized then, hadn’t even thought of it. Something that people in California or New Mexico could open up and look at, ad just close up again. Because it didn’t affect them at all. Fifteen years of those crimes. 

“Hey,” Louis’ voice broke him out of his spell. “I can do this on my own, if you’re not up to it.”

“It’s a lot of files.”

Louis shrugged. There was no way he could deny it; it was. “There’s no rush. And I’d rather not mess you up, yeah? It won’t help to do that..”

Harry shook his head. This was going to help him in the long run. Saving himself from overthinking, he opened the first file, and quickly scanned the document. A sexual assault case from Boulder City, one stab wound, unknown perpetrator. 

He narrowed his eyes as he read on. “This guy is 5’6, it says.”

“Your guy was your height, yeah?” Louis asked, and Harry nodded. “Guess that one’s a write off. We’ll get through these in no time.” He tried to smile, reassuringly and Harry’s lips tightened. 

They sat in silence, the only sound the clicks of their mouses and the scratch of pen on paper, as Louis took non-stop notes. The more files Harry looked at, the less he could connect to them. If they didn’t fit in with their parameters, there was no point in paying too much attention to them, so he kept going. Moving unrelated files to junk folders while taking notes on what seemed relevant.

Once they were done, they looked over their saved files together, Louis’ teeth seemingly permanently biting down on his lip. He renamed each file to contain the basics of the case in the title, so they could sort through them easily. 

Louis spoke in a hush tone, “Double homicide on Carlaw campus. One was a grad student and they were living just off campus.” The undercurrent of hope was palpable, Harry scared to ask for more details. He'd looked at that file, noting how recent it was. Louis continued, "It was five years ago which... is a bit long of a long cooling off period."

Harry wet his lips before speaking, mouth suddenly dry, “But that's just what we're seeing, isn't it? Not everything would be reported to ViCAP would it?” 

Louis shook his head. "No. And it's close by..." He tapped his fingers against the side of his laptop. "It would make sense to leave the state after, and if he has family near there this wouldn't be too far away."

Harry tried to quench the flicker of hope that lit up in his chest. Tried to think of the reality-- the two still nameless people whose lives had been snuffed out. Possibly by the same person who had attacked Harry's housemates. And it was so recent, too. “Five years...I was still in high school then.”

“Me too.” Louis added, mostly as an afterthought.

“That means there were people like us there. Students who were just trying to live their life. Trying to get past this.”

“Yeah.” 

“God. I wonder how they're doing now. Are they doing alright? When did it get easier?”

“Some of them probably went on to grad school. PhDs, elsewhere maybe.” Louis sighed. “Some probably stayed.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Harry repeated with a frown. It seemed foolish to think that anyone would stay, but then again, that’s what Harry did. “Carlaw?”

It was familiar. He’d heard it mentioned before and not in relation to a crime. Not too long ago either… He furrowed his brow as he tried to trace back the conversation. He’d been drinking, and he was out with people. Someone said they’d done their undergrad there--

“Ed used to go to that college. Around that time too,” Harry said, eyebrows shooting up at the realization. A surge of something he couldn’t decipher taking hold of his chest. Panic and hope duking it out for air. 

“Someone you know, yeah?” Louis asked and Harry nodded. He huffed out a breath of disbelief. They were actually getting somewhere. Fuck. Louis continued, “Is it someone you think we can talk to? He’s not gonna spook like Nick?” 

Harry brought his knees to his chest, leaning his chin on them. “He doesn’t know what happened, if that’s what you’re asking. But we’re good, yeah. He’s a TA but we’re good. I think I’m one of the only people who actually give a shit in his class. If we can bring it up like. Naturally. That might work.”

“That’s good.” Louis sucked in his cheeks nodding along. “I think I have an idea.”

They were actually getting somewhere, and Harry wanted to cry with relief.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again huge thanks to A for betaing this thing and sticking with it for nearly a year. And Nic for looking over this last chapter to make sure it made sense. And of course any readers who've been following since the start: thank you for your patience. I hope the wait will be worth the while. 
> 
> If anyone would like me to add warnings please let me know.

Ed Sheeran welcomed Harry and Louis into his office with warm handshakes, a friendly tilt to his mouth as he ushered them inside.

“Been awhile since someone came to see me for a reason other than getting an extension,” he said. His desk was orderly, but he still pushed a post-it stack closer to his keyboard, making sure they were perfectly aligned. “Harry said you wanted to know about Carlaw, yeah?”

Louis nodded eagerly. “Yeah, just trying to get a feel for what kind of place it is, you know? If you do your research for undergrad, you should do it for grad too, right?”

“God, you’re telling me. You know, I thought getting an office meant you had it made, but I didn’t account for the shit chairs,” Ed said, heaving himself up in the plush chair behind his desk. “Some more research would probably have helped me.”

“Is that your way of saying the Carlaw chairs are better?” Louis asked.

Ed raised his brows and leaned back in his seat. It looked like he was on the verge of tipping over, but having seen him pull this move many times before, Harry wasn’t concerned. It was a bit odd, seeing Ed act normally like nothing was at stake with their meeting. But that's how they'd decided to proceed. Harry said, “I guess that’s a valid concern for ergonomic reasons.”

“True,” Ed confirmed, and swung in his seat. “I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure I remember the chairs over there. But the campus had great amenities, in general.” His eyes flicked to Louis’ lap where he held a moleskine notebook. He seemed to take the hint and opened it up, scribbling down Ed’s comment.

“Good to know,” Louis said, with a tight smile. Harry wasn't sure what his own expression looked like, so entranced with watching Louis interacting with Ed. He had to gather himself so he wouldn't inadvertently give them away.

“You know, you could’ve just take me out for a beer, you didn’t have to get all official.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure you took me seriously as a prospective student,” Louis said, and Ed pursed his lips in response. “‘Sides if we’re taking up your time it’s only right we do it through the proper channels, yeah?”

“I don’t have any pull you know, would expect a better chair if I did,” Ed said, adjusting his glasses again.

“So what I gather is always inquire about the office before accepting any offer,” Louis commented and Ed cackled. Louis seemed to have slipped back into his comfort zone, smiling with ease and he stayed in the character of a curious prospective grad student.

“Learning already.” Ed turned to Harry, said, “He's a clever one.”

“Wouldn't dare to introduce you otherwise,” Harry said and he could feel Louis’ loaded glance. It was for their ruse, sure, but Harry couldn't deny that he enjoyed introducing Louis to his friends and having them like him. He trusted Ed’s opinion and while the situation was fabricated, he liked to think that the opportunity would’ve come up for the two of them to meet.

Harry was actually the one who’d vetoed the casual get together since he thought it would need too much preamble, and he felt concerned he might slip out of character with a beer or two in him. Even now, Harry thought he would have to bear the brunt of the lies, the talking, laying the groundwork, giving context as to why he even accompanied Louis in the first place. But Ed didn’t seem too bothered, and Louis was excelling on his own. Just watching him in his element was enthralling. Harry was the one struggling to keep up with the conversation, not Louis.

“Harry always speaks so fondly of you; figured if you came out of there, it must be good,” Louis said with a wink of his eye.

“Oh, I see, you’re not buttering me up for pull at Carlaw, you’re trying to get Harry a better grade,” Ed teased. Louis cracked a laugh, and Harry shook his head.

“I told him you’d be like this,” Harry said, thumb pulling at the sleeve of his jacket. He hadn’t taken it off, and it was feeling a bit hot in the office.

“We can do this without him,” Ed told Louis, nodding in Harry's direction.

Louis laughed, the glint of his teeth visible as he bit down on his lip. His warm expression made Harry’s own face feel even hotter, shoulders feel tighter.

“It affects me too, you know. Need to be in on the decision making,” Harry said without thought, mouth closing with a smack.

That wasn't part of the plan.

Still, Louis cottoned on, cleared his throat and added, “Since he's gonna be visiting, yeah. Kind of want him to know the details.”

Ed’s eyebrows rose, forehead wrinkling as his eyes darted between the two of them. Emboldened, Harry reached out for Louis’ hand.

“Right, ” Ed said, eyes still wide. “Well, it's not far from here. So easy visits for you both, if you’ve got a car.” His mouth twisted as he thought. “There’s some big on-campus apartments, if you want your space.”

“Space is good; I think we’re a bit tired of sharing,” Louis squeezed Harry's hand with a smirk, and Harry could only interpret it as a victory squeeze. They could practically ask Ed anything, and all he'd remember is that Harry apparently had a boyfriend for long enough that he’d be vital to the grad school choice, and hadn’t even mentioned it

Ed tapped his pen on the desk. “What are you studying again?”

“Journalism. I know they've got a good school paper, don't they? I think I heard a lot of their writers speak very highly of their experiences?”

Ed nodded. “Yes, the Gazette, I believe. You seem to know more than me on that, although I recall it being quite popular. I don’t recall hearing much about the actual Journalism program, though.”

“Right. I mean, a program might teach you, but hands-on experience really trains you. That’s priceless.”

“That is true.”

“Do you know if--“ Harry started, then shook his head. This was part of the plan, his hesitant concern, and Louis reacted as they'd agreed, gently speaking his name. The press of Louis’ thumb against Harry's wrist wasn't planned, however, and it sent a shiver along the inside of Harry’s arm.

Ed looked between the two of them, trying to decipher what was going on. “Well? Out with it.”

“Harry's just a bit worried,” Louis explained. “What with everything that happened here…”

Realization dawned on Ed's features, and he pushed the tip of his fingers against the edge of his mousepad.

Harry added, “Since I know there was… An incident at Carlaw not too long ago.”

Harry swallowed thickly, Ed’s contemplative gaze hot on him. That he thought Harry and Louis were in a relationship was probably even better, as now Harry's concerns came off more sincere than if he were just a friend accompanying Louis. It made sense for a boyfriend to be concerned about safety.

Ed scratched his chin. “Yes. I do remember. It wasn't--” he started, but cut himself off. “I can sincerely say I didn't expect to encounter something like that again.”

“So, it was just as bad as here?” Harry pressed on. His pulse was racing, and he bet that Louis could feel it in his palm where their hands were joined. His hand remained a steady warm anchor, clasping his hand.

“It's not the same. I mean. I think that was… That was probably just a robbery gone bad.”

That was the common excuse they'd found in their research. It had been quite easy to find articles on Kevin and Leah, both 25, who had bright futures ahead of them. That they’d fallen prey to a career criminal who just crossed the line. That it was a sombre but completely unpredictable attack that was aided by the poor lighting in the area of the attack.

That was all it was, though, an excuse. Probably told to keep the panic to a minimum. And the more time passed with no further incidents, the easier it was to believe that it was just an incredibly unfortunate fluke. If authorities really thought it'd been a robbery gone bad, they wouldn't have submitted the details to ViCAP in the first place. And there would've been a BOLO on the missing items. None of which were mentioned in the crime profiles they'd gotten access to.

Ed seemed to waver in his seat, the corner of his mouth twitching downward. “To be honest, I'd forgotten all about it ‘till this happened. It's a very safe school. I don't think you need to worry. ”

“I think just knowing stuff would be helpful, you know. Like, did the paper cover any of the investigation? Or was that hushed up?”

Ed pursed his lips. “I believe there was a profile on the victims. It’s a big school, but one of them worked at the paper. I think it was the guy.”

“That sounds like a lovely tribute,” Louis said, and Harry felt inclined to agree. It was touching that Kevin’s former colleagues would’ve been able to pen a tribute to him and Leah.

“That must've been upsetting for them, though,” Harry said. He didn't know them, had only seen the chosen article headshots, but he could still image the void they must've left behind. He didn't know if he could explain who his housemates were; he couldn't imagine having to write a profile on any of them for the world to read.

Ed kept nodding before he paused, “You know, I think someone from the faculty worked at the paper at the time.”

There was a prick in Harry's chest, and he could've sworn that Louis’ grip around his hand tightened.

“So, they might know more about the program then, and the paper?” Louis asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safe shores.

“Don't know how much he liked it since he's teaching something else here now, but,” Ed shrugged, “it's always helpful to speak to a variety of people.”

“Absolutely.” Louis leaned forward, and Harry was pulled along. “I'd love to be in touch. “

“I can definitely help with that,” Ed said. “And if you need any assistance with the application--don't know how much actual help I can be, but I do have the experience.” He smiled fondly, cocking his head.

“I really appreciate it, thank you,” Louis said, sincerely. Harry could tell he really did appreciate it, but probably not for the reason Ed thought. Ed had been a huge help in simplifying the next steps.

Harry was surprised when Ed turned his attention back to him.

“Where are you staying these days? You moved, didn't you?” Ed asked, as he scribbled down a note in his calendar. A reminder to pass on the contact information to Louis, hopefully. Ed told Louis, “Used to see this one around all the time outside of class,” and Louis nodded in understanding.

‘“M at McCaul now.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Ed nodded along. He ripped the page and waved it. “I've written this down, which means it’s definitely happening. Looking into whether the old prof can lend a hand.”

“Thanks.”

“We should go out for that beer soon then, there's a great bar near McCaul. Can't believe Styles has been holding out on me, could’ve been hanging in that neighbourhood.” Ed cocked his brow, smirking in Harry's direction.

“Sounds great,” Louis said, easily, and like he wouldn’t mind keeping up the charade and Harry's heart stuttered. It might be an empty promise in the hope that Ed wouldn't try to cash in, but he'd never known Louis to make those.

They said their goodbyes and stepped out with their hands still clasped tightly.

The excitement pressed inside of Harry's ribs, and the crisp air was sharp as he inhaled. The warmth from Ed's office followed them out the door, the hottest point right where his and Louis’ palms met.

They kept holding hands all the way out the building. There was no reason to, but once their fingers were entwined, it felt odd to part them. And Louis made no attempt to pull away, the slide of his forefinger along Harry’s a constant as they walked in step. It was the slightest of touches, but it felt deliberate, and Harry didn’t know how such a small thing could be so dizzying.

Louis was struggling to readjust his scarf with just one hand, and still didn't seem to want to pull away. Like he wanted to keep holding Harry's hand.

“Do you need help?” Harry asked, voice getting stuck in his throat, as if his shivers had overtaken his vocal chords.

“Who, me?” Louis asked, as he pulled at the zipper of his jacket. Harry laughed and made a move to fix it for him, pulling it up all the way.

They were face to face, close enough that Harry could kiss Louis if he wanted. And he wanted. Egged on by the dry rub of Louis’ fingers against his palm, and the way his breath fogged the air between them

Harry rocked back on his heels, gathering courage to tip forward.

“That went well,” Louis said. His mouth quirked up and stayed parted. Just enough for Harry's tongue to slot between them and get a glorious taste of the inside of Louis’ mouth if he leaned in.

He could do it, he could, fingers gripping tightly along his scarf.

“Yeah,” Harry breathed. He pushed his weight forward, nerves alight with bravery.

Then his phone vibrated starkly in his pocket, knocking him off balance. He ended up stumbling backward, regretfully letting go of Louis’ hand, and putting unwanted distance between them.

Harry stuck his hands in his pocket, pulling out his phone, face falling when he took in the text he'd received. _Liam,_ fuck. “‘M supposed to meet with Liam at the library.” He’d gotten so engrossed in Louis that he hadn’t had a chance to do the reading for an important class, one that was happening the next day. Liam had agreed to an emergency study session so Harry would have a chance to catch up, which is why he definitely couldn't bail.

Louis breath was huffed as he pulled away, eyes darting around them. His mouth kept twitching. He clutched at Harry's sleeve, it seemed like he was trying to keep him in his orbit since Harry’d pulled away.

“Yeah, of course. We're basically done here, yeah. I should do some studying on my own. That's fine.” Louis was nearly rambling, lips pressed tightly before he smiled. “Gotta prep for that next meeting,” Louis added, and snapped his fingers awkwardly.

“Right. Yes.”

“You go do your learning. I'll see you later, yeah? Actually, there's probably a class I should go to since we got done early.”

Harry wanted to stay, wanted to fold himself into Louis, wanted to hold him. But he was already late, and Louis was backing away, heading back in the direction of the dorms.

“Have fun,” Harry called out after him, before trying to answer Liam’s text as he hurried to the library.

 

≈

 

Liam got up from his seat as soon as he spotted Harry, hand raising up in greeting. As if he wasn’t sitting exactly where Harry knew to look for him, the same place they’d been sitting for all their study sessions.

“Hey! Hi,” Liam said, still standing, watching as Harry got settled. Luckily Harry'd put his books in his bag the night before, or else he’d totally have forgotten them. Even though they only shared one class, he and Liam seemed to focus best around each other, and often would try to work together.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting,” Harry said, shrugging out of his jacket and unwinding his scarf.

“That's alright,” Liam said, although from the way his face was set, Harry doubted that was true.

“I was meeting with Ed,” Harry added by way of apology.

Liam’s face lit up, and he snapped his fingers, getting settled into his seat again. “That TA for your Soc class, right?”

Harry nodded. He had a water bottle with him, and he took the opportunity to take a swig, Liam's heavy gaze drilling into him.

“That's good, yeah, prepping for finals, I guess? That's smart, I should talk to my TAs, too. It's a good idea,” it sounded like Liam was speaking to himself.

“Could I borrow a pen?” Harry interrupted him, trying to change the subject and Liam laughed, tucking his chin. No doubt he’d realized that he’d been rambling.

“Yeah, of course, should've asked.” He plucked one from his backpack and offered it to Harry.

“I'm sorry for the rambling and all, I just-- You worried me a bit, bro.” He squeezed Harry's shoulder, always quick to touch, to reassure. It probably one of the reasons he and Harry had gotten along so well.

“I’ll be more timely in the future,” Harry assured, squeezing Liam's hand before he pulled it away.

“It's not just today. You're all,” Liam waved his hands about, “Like distracted. And you ran off the other day for no reason.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Harry’s mouth twisted.

Liam seemed to hesitate for a second before asking, “Who was that you ran after?”

“Oh, um. Just someone…” Harry wasn't sure what to call Nick in this context. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh. Oh!” Liam exclaimed, as if Harry's demeanor gave something away. Harry didn't want to ask what Liam thought he saw, though; whatever it was, he was certain it wasn't the truth.

He settled for a muttered, “Yeah,” and scratched the inside of his arm, hoping it would convey sufficient emotion for Liam to drop the topic.

“Happens to the best of us, yeah?” Liam said, puppy dog eyes out in full force. He looked ready to launch into a speech so Harry smiled tightly, and pulled his textbook closer to himself.

 

≈

 

By the time Harry got back to the dorms, it seemed his feet had a will of their own, steering him straight to Louis’ room without even a detour to his own to drop off his stuff.

He felt a prickling in his stomach as he knocked onthe door, a split second of panic striking through him as he imagined that Louis wouldn't want to see him after their awkward goodbye earlier.

But the lock had already clicked open, and he had no choice but to step inside. He did so with feigned confidence, eyes landing on Louis where he sat, huddled on his bed, comforter up to his belly.

“Oh,” Louis let out, his grip slipping on the laptop perched on his lap. There was muffled dialogue coming from it, and he quickly moved to pause or mute whatever was playing. “Hey.”

“S’it okay that I’m here?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just-- I didn’t expect you, ‘s’all,” His mouth quirked to the side.

For a split second, Harry didn’t know what to do. He knew what he _wanted_ ; he wanted to crawl onto Louis’ bed, press close against him, and hold his hand again. Maybe more. Probably a lot more. As much as he could get.

His hand slipped over the doorknob as he twisted it thoughtfully. His bag was low on his shoulder, swinging towards the inside of the room. Pulling him in. His grip was tight around the strap, fingers going white with how hard he was holding on to it. Louis’ toes twitched under the blanket he had covering his lap.

“What’re you watching?” Harry asked, impressed that his voice didn’t break.

“ _How I Met Your Mother_. It's pretty useful to empty your mind.” Louis shifted on his bed, closer to the corner. Almost as if making room for Harry to join. He asked, “Wanna watch?”

Harry nodded as he stepped towards the bed and shuffled over until he hit the wall, slumping against it. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but this way he could watch Louis watch the screen of his laptop. His bag poked against his side, but he didn’t want to move to put it on the floor.

“This is the first Robin Sparkles ep,” Louis said, turning his laptop incrementally in Harry’s direction.

Harry slowly shifted position. After Louis sent him a sidelong glance, he felt awkward bracing himself against the wall as he had been.

Their arms touched, the fine hairs of Louis’ arm rubbed against Harry’s. Harry could feel his pulse under his skin, as if it were searching out Louis’.

The sounds of Barney and Robin bickering faded into a level hum in his ear, the only sounds he could really pick up were the faint one of Louis’ hair rubbing against the wall as he moved his head and the slight hiss of fabric when Louis’ laptop slid over the comforter.

Louis was looking at him expectantly, and, oh. He’d asked something. “You must be wiped from your study session, huh?” Louis commented in response to Harry’s inattentiveness.

Not wanting to ask Louis to repeat his question, Harry braved his nerves, clearing his throat before he asked, “Have you heard from Ed yet?” Hopefully the change of topic wouldn’t be too abrupt or startle Louis.

Louis shook his head, close enough that the very tips of his hair brushed against Harry’s face. “No, I don’t expect to hear back ‘til the end of the week, honestly.”

Harry nodded along, said, “You should follow up tomorrow. Send a thank you note.” He paused. “Or email, I guess.”

Louis’ expression brightened. “That sounds like a great idea. Would certainly help my rep of being really invested and on top of things, too.”

Harry tried to suppress a smile, eyes flicking to the board that was hung up over the other bed. Carlaw had it’s own corner now, with notes about the victims and their circumstances tacked on, additional clippings and notes on the taut bedspread. There was a loose sharpie next to them, just in case, so any thoughts could be written down as soon as they hit. Harry had a feeling they were onto something, the nipping in his gut a reaction to more than just Louis’ presence next to him. The more information on the Carlaw killing they’d found, the more it felt important. There had to be a connection, and the proximity of the schools, although separated by state lines, seemed relevant.

“I hope--” Louis started, and moved to scratch his elbow, arm briefly pulled away from Harry’s side. He felt the loss acutely , and blinked at Louis’ face as the corner of his eye twitched. “I hope it wasn’t too much that I went along with Ed thinking--”

“No, that was-- It was fine,” Harry stuttered his reassurance, pulse brazenly making itself known. “I think it was clever.”

“I just-- I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Louis said, and the way he resolutely didn’t look at Harry as he spoke made Harry’s chest ache. His arm was back next to Harry’s though, the mere rubbing of the soft hairs there against Harry’ skin making his heart race.

“I wasn’t. Were you?” He had to ask. Louis shook his head adamantly.

“Absolutely not, don’t-- You don’t have to worry about anything like that, H.” Louis’ fingertips twitched the slightest bit against Harry’s hand, as if he was itching to touch Harry too. Could it be? Harry cast his eyes down, and could tell Louis’ other hand was trembling slightly.

This could be the moment for Harry to take a chance. He felt himself move towards Louis without thinking, fingers finding their way to Louis’ palm before twining them together.

“What about now?” Harry’s voice, hoarse and raw, asked. He hadn’t planned this, but he had to, didn’t he? Louis shook his head again, and squeezed Harry’s hand.

“No. You definitely don’t have to worry. There’s nothing you could do, Haz, honestly.” There was a sad lilt to his mouth, and in the way his breath puffed out between his open lips. Harry leaned forward, as if propelled by a force in his chest. His mouth caught against Louis’, swallowing a surprised gasp.

The surprise didn’t last for long. Louis’ head tilted up to meet Harry in the kiss, shifting close as their lips met, over and over. His laptop started sliding off to the side of the bed as his hand cupped Harry’s jaw, the sheets he’d be bundled under mover lower down his lgegs as their bodies moved.

The wet, hot heat of Louis’ mouth, the chase of him following Harry’s lead so easily, made his head spin. Harry licked his lips as he pulled away, eyes darting quickly between Louis’ eyes and his lips, and the question died on his tongue as Louis laughed and pulled him in closer.

“Still not uncomfortable, no.”

Harry blinked happily, the squirming in his belly growing tighter and more excited as he pecked the corner of Louis’ mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis said before shifting awkwardly and sliding down the bed, trying to pull Harry down with him. He slotted easily against Louis’ side. Having spent nights together before, Harry already knew that he would, but it was different now. Knowing the contact was welcome. He couldn’t help but bring his arms around Louis’ waist boldly.

“So um,” Harry started as Louis’ fingers rubbed at the nape of his neck. He could just close his eyes and lean into it, but he had to ask. “We don’t have to like, pretend do we? I mean--”

“It doesn’t have to be pretend, no,” Louis finished his sentence for him. There was a nervous twitch of his mouth, his mouth that was still shiny with Harry’s saliva. Harry nearly wanted to burrow his face in the crook of Louis’ neck to reassure him that there was nothing to be nervous about.

Harry reached over Louis’ prone body and closed the laptop, sound cutting off, leaving them with only their ragged breaths. It was moved to the floor, pushed under the bed without either of them getting up, both too preoccupied with letting their palms and fingertips memorize the feel of each other. Harry didn’t even want to get up to change into sleep clothes, trying to weasel his way out of his jeans while still horizontal to a soundtrack of Louis’ laughter. He would’ve been cold, normally, sleeping in his own bed in just boxers, but with Louis pressed against him, there was no way for a chill to catch. Louis’ breath was hot against Harry’s cheeks, against his neck, as he pressed closed mouth kisses along Harry’s collarbone.

It wasn’t the first time they’d spent the night tangled together, but it was different. Harry didn’t feel self-conscious about rubbing his nose along the back of Louis’ neck, about inhaling reverently, wanting to be consumed by Louis, and consuming in return. It didn’t hurt that Louis was just as tactile, his nails absentmindedly scratching along Harry’s back, and the base of his scalp. He was slightly remorseful at having missed out on this type of attention this whole time and relished it.

They were plastered together when they awoke, the back of Louis’ t-shirt sticking to Harry’s chest. There was a slight draft from the window that hadn’t been closed properly, but the chilly air kissing Harry’s temples just made him want to burrow closer to Louis.

“Mhm, you’re very warm.” Louis said, and Harry squeezed him harder. It wasn’t their usual sleeping position; normally, Louis would be the one hugging Harry near, but things weren’t usual with them anymore. At least, Harry hoped not. It felt good to be protecting Louis, for once, shielding him from the rest of the world. Louis’d been that for Harry since he’d met him, and Harry was glad he could return the favor in the smallest of ways.

Even though he missed having the heat of Louis’ chest against his back.

“S’that a problem?” Harry asked, his voice more husky and raw than expected. He could taste the staleness of his mouth from not brushing his teeth the night before, and he smacked his lips.

“Jus’ my front’s all cold, now,” Louis said, and the words slithered filthily into Harry’s brain. His hands were low on Louis’ chest, and they suddenly ached with want to reach lower. Is that what Louis wanted? A shiver passed through him, and he wanted to pull back, to not reveal just how affected he was. He didn’t, though, and was rewarded by Louis covering Harry’s hand with his own, along with a backward grind.

That’s the moment Harry’s alarm went off, reminding him that he had a string of classes that he really couldn’t miss, the one day a week when his attendance really was non-negotiable. He couldn’t control the whine in the back of his throat; he’d have to kick off the sheets, get dressed in his chilled jeans, and sit on uncomfortable chairs for the remainder of the day.

Louis seemed to understand his dilemma, pulling away, and flipping onto his back. “I see, you’re going to leave me to be cold all over now, aren’t you?” He teased.

Harry pouted demonstrably, pushing himself closer to Louis’ heat. He didn’t want to step outside into the November frost. “I’ll be cold, too, having to walk around with my ears out,” Harry commented, and, as if on cue, Louis’ fingers were pulling at his earlobes, palms heavy against his jaw.

“Can’t have that,” Louis said, flipping back onto his side, but facing Harry, getting close enough that he could kiss just below his ear. “You can always borrow one of my beanies, should keep them warmer than just your curls.”

“Mhm,” was the only response Harry could manage, ready to melt back into bed, to let Louis have his way at prodding at him, letting his teeth graze wherever he wanted. Although getting to go out with one of Louis’ beloved beanies would feel like an accomplishment, as well. A nice way to keep himself wrapped in Louis’ scent until he could return to him later that night. Because there was no question as to whether he would, now.

Harry stayed put for as long as he could, trying to time his breaths with Louis’, and tentatively pushing his hand below his shirt. The skin of Louis’ hip as smooth and hot as he’d expected.

“You’ve got that important class today, don’t you?” Louis asked, forehead jammed against Harry’s shoulder. He must’ve sensed Harry’s wavering willpower, how much heavier he rested in bed. “The one you studied so hard for yesterday?”

“Yeah.”

Louis harrumphed, rolling out of bed, leaving Harry alone and cold-- Harry’s cue to also get up. Not that staying in bed was tempting without Louis in it.

“I’ll walk you to the auditorium. I can do some more research in the library,” Louis suggested. The way he rubbed his eyes as he pulled out a pair of jeans revealed that he’d much rather stay in bed. “But you’re buying me coffee, a blonde hazelnut latte with a shot of vanilla and no foam, to be exact,” Louis added, before tossing Harry one of his larger beanies.

“Alright,” Harry said, grabbing the hat and pushing it over his head immediately, already feeling more grounded. He knew Louis would change his order to a single Americano, only teasing an extravagant order.

“D’you need anything from your room?” Louis asked as he watched Harry put the previous day’s clothes back on. They were clean enough, and would be covered by his jacket for most of the day anyway.

“Nah, ‘m good.” Louis nodded and grabbed his hand before they even walked out, his own bag slung over his shoulder filled with both study notes and their investigation papers.

There was a flyer stuck to Louis’ door, advertising McCaul’s HALLiday Bash. From the other doors still covered in their own flyers, it must’ve been put up overnight when most residents had already gone to bed. Harry’d heard whispers about the party, the one time all RAs turned a blind eye to alcohol on the floor, although it was still safest to drink in your room and mingle with mixed drinks, or spiked sodas.

“Wanna go?” Louis asked, as if the extent of their attendance wasn’t just down to stepping outside of their rooms with somewhat concealed drinks in hands. They could step out of Louis’ dorm room together, Harry supposed.

“If you’ll have me,” Harry said, pulling Louis towards the exit. They bumbled comfortably side by side towards the elevator, Louis’ hand resting on Harry’s back.

“I’d have no one else,” Louis responded, blinking at the ground. A flicker of hope was ignited in Harry’s gut. They were already making so much progress, it was possible that by the time the HALLiday Bash rolled around, they would’ve solved the case. They could be free to focus only on each other, with nothing hanging over their heads-- no one breathing down Harry’s neck.

The thought alone was intoxicating, Harry’s stomach swooping as they stepped into the elevator.

 

≈

 

Harry was having a particularly difficult time focusing; the thought of his and Louis’ future, unbothered selves popping into his head at inopportune times. How was Harry supposed to focus on the secularity of Beowulf, plant breeding, and the debunking of the Genovese syndrome when all he could think about was being relieved of the albatross around his neck? Investigating the case with Louis had helped relieve his survivor’s guilt, much to his therapist’s delight, but he wasn’t completely free of it yet. He wouldn’t be until the case was solved beyond a shadow of a doubt.

By the time Econ class rolled around, Harry’s mind was still wandering, allowing for all the reading he’d done the day before to leak out of his memory. Professor Winston droned on about the economic impact of various family patterns, and it made Harry think of his own family, which made him think of Louis’ family and meeting them, and--

His pen clattered to the floor, the sound echoing throughout the airy classroom. The glare from the Prof was enough to cut Harry down, leaving him hunched over in his seat. The girl sitting next to him grimaced when he glanced at her, sympathy evident in her eyes. The class was difficult enough for those who’d taken the prerequisites, and Harry had already had to jump through hoops to justify his attendance; it wouldn’t do to end up on the Prof’s bad side.

He bit his lip to stop himself from apologizing and interrupting the flow of the class further. He’d have to hope that whatever was covered in the first half of the class wouldn’t end up on the final. He focused back on the slides they were being shown, scribbling their contents onto his still blank notepad.

 

≈

 

Remaining alert for the rest of the Econ class had drained Harry more than expected. Even the walk back home was subdued, and Harry kept tucking hairs under the borrowed beanie. The worn, pilling fabric was comforting under his touch, a physical reminder of the shift in his and Louis’ relationship.

His stomach grumbled as he walked back to the dorm, stomach clenching on air, the granola bar and three coffees he’d sipped on throughout the day not enough to keep him going. Harry tried to take a mental inventory of the food he had in the shared kitchenette-- enough to make something for Louis, too, probably. He should just be finishing up his last lecture of the day, which gave Harry a bit of a head start.

Harry pressed his fists deep into his pockets, and let the streetlights guide him home as he planned the evening ahead. It would be a nice surprise, wouldn’t it? Coming home to a warm meal and some wanted company.

Harry headed straight to the kitchenette, opening up the cupboards. His packages of kimchi ramen were still there, and he filled the kettle up and turned it on. He had two leftover eggs and took them out, swirling them into the noodle-filled bowls, allowing them to thicken the broth and form ribbons. He put each bowl in the microwave for a hot minute just to make sure the eggs had been cooked through fully. The tangy, spicy smell of the broth was making his mouth water.

He’d have to get changed out of his jeans and sweater, and drop off his bag before going to Louis’ room to wait for him. He took some small sips of each bowl to make them easier to carry through the hallways. He noticed most of the doors were bare, flyers already taken down from the morning. His was still there, albeit crooked.

Harry had to put down one bowl as he opened his door, and left them both on his desk as he let his bag drop to the floor. His shoulders were stiff, and there was soreness radiating from his spine. He stretched out before exhaling sharply. He’d see Louis soon enough.

Before closing the door he tugged at his flyer, eager to read more of the details. He hadn’t exactly had the most opportunity to attend actual organized college parties, but this felt like a perfect time to start. The paper ripped as he pulled it down, leaving a piece of it and the tape fastened to the door. He used his thumbnail to get off the tape from the door, crinkling the paper in his hand in the process.

Only to notice that there was something on the back.

Harry flipped the paper curiously, wondering if maybe there were more details on the back. He frowned at the thought, straightening the paper out. As soon as the imagery registered his throat closed up, his breath catching in his chest. He couldn’t let go of the paper, although it felt like it burned his fingers.

He blinked as his eyes scanned the page, over and over again. The world silent save for his heartbeat in his ears.

On the page, in what looked like sharpie, was a game of hangman. It was completed, and there were a number of crossed out letters, false guesses, scattered on the page. The blanked out word has been spelled out nonetheless, spelling out **LOUIE**.

Harry’s fingertips were going numb and, for a split second, it felt like the world tilted on its axis, his pulse skyrocketing. And then Harry swallowed, looking around him. His room looked perfectly normal. Everything seemed so normal.

He blinked at the paper, almost detached from himself. He hadn’t heard from Louis today since they’d parted in the morning. With the crumpled paper still in his hands, he fumbled to grab his phone and calling up Louis.

Harry watched the steam rise from his prepared ramen bowls as the phone rang. He made one for Louis. He had to come home and eat it. He had to be okay.

Louis didn’t pick up.

Harry leaned back where he sat on his bed, immobilized. This could be anything. Louis probably had his phone on silent. He was probably walking back to the dorms now.

He blinked as he looked towards his door. Had his flyer been there, defaced that way, since morning? Or had the not-so veiled threat been added at some point later in the day? As he scanned his room, it’s normality nearly offensive considering the circumstances, his gaze dropped to the still quite full bowls of ramen. His stomach had stopped grumbling, and the thought of eating anything now made him feel sick.

Harry hadn’t let go of his phone, so when it vibrated he could feel it all the way to his shoulders, and he tensed as he pulled it closer to his face.

 _Whassup?_ Louis texted Harry back, and just that small proof of life allowed Harry to slump down on his bed, as if the strings of tension had been cut. He still felt oddly detached, his body doing things without his mind approving, a sob finding its way to his throat. He didn’t try to keep it down as he composed his text to Louis. Hopefully, his eyes would dry out by the time Louis came back.

 _Come home asap? Xx_ Harry asked, and he knew from the _K_ that Louis responded with that he would. And that he probably knew something was up.

Harry didn’t move from his bed, sitting, watching the door. His mind still raced, trying to piece together a timeline or intent behind the threat. The fact that it came now meant they were definitely on to something. But it also meant that their suspect knew they were looking. He knew they were on to him. And they already knew how dangerous he could be.

Louis arrived quicker than expected, a bit out of breath as he braced himself against the door jamb. “Hey,” Louis said, with a rushed exhaled, biting the inside of his cheeks as he tried to pace himself. Harry didn’t answer, simply handed over the flyer for Louis to look at. He watched Louis’ features change as he looked over it. His mouth turned down, a severe frown settling on his face. His eyes flicked over to Harry’s. “It was like that when I found it,” Harry said, answering Louis’ unasked question.

“Do you have a plastic cover?” Louis asked, and the question seemed so disconnected from everything that Harry just shook his head. “Okay, I’ll just-- Don’t move, alright?” Louis said, before backing out of the room, his jaw trembling. Harry wondering for a brief second if his own face was showing any emotions -- that’s how disconnected he felt from it all. Like he was watching it all happen to someone else.

It only took a couple of seconds for Harry’s brain to catch up with the events, putting together that the report cover was for the flyer. So Louis had a plan of some sort, some sort of idea of what they should do. That was good, he told himself, trying to keep his thoughts simple.

Louis returned quickly, and dropped to his knees by Harry’s bed to slip the flyer easily into the cover. “We have to tell Jesy,” Louis said, gripping Harry’s leg, squeezing it tight enough that he left a pinch of pain in his wake.

 

≈

 

“So, someone left this on your door?” Jesy asked, dubious. It seemed the only reason she didn’t dismiss them entirely was because of the look still etched on Harry’s face. He’d caught sight of his reflection in Jesy’s vanity mirror, and he couldn’t identify a single emotion in his eyes. His expression was completely blank. Not that Louis looked that much better. The only time Harry could remember seeing him so stiff, jaw clenched so tightly, was the day Harry’d told him he was the John Doe Louis was looking for.

“They were put up last night, but we only just saw them,” Louis said, hand still clasped over Harry’s knee as they sat on Jesy’s couch. Across from them, the TV was still on, paused on an unfortunate _Big Brother_ scene. Harry’s eyes slid back to Jesy where she sat with folded legs on the armchair, thumbing hesitantly at the covered paper.

“Okay,” she said, nodding seriously. “I really think it's probably just a prank, Harry,” her voice was low and honeyed. Probably her best “calm-your-residents” voice. Harry shook his head. She bit her lip in response. She continued, “They didn’t even spell Louis’ name right. They obviously don’t even know the two of you.”

“Why would they prank us if they don’t even know us?” Harry asked, and the corner of Jesy’s lips rolled inwards.

She didn’t have a chance to respond before Louis snapped, “That doesn’t make it better.” It wasn’t on purpose; Harry could tell from the way Louis grimaced after his words were spat out. He knew better than to rile up people that could help them, he knew to be on their good side when it mattered. “Even if they don’t know us, they’ve paid attention enough to know me ‘n Harry are hanging out a lot. To know my name at all, and know Harry’s room.”

“Okay. Yes, but I don’t see how we can expect to find them,” Jesy said, with a resigned voice.

“We can talk to the campus security, take a look at the footage of who came by with the flyers. Drop this off with the police so they can fingerprint it for any signs of tampering,” Louis ranted on, and Jesy tried to meet him with a faltering smile.

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think? I get it, this is clearly-- not ideal,” she said, trying to sound even keeled, “I’d probably freak out too but-- I don’t think the _police_ are going to be interested. It may be disturbing, but it's hardly a crime to doodle on a flyer. It's not even your property.”

Louis’ jaw tensed again, and his lips formed a thin line. Harry blinked at him, before turning his attention Jesy’s way. “I’m John Doe,” he said, his brain to mouth filter having eroded as soon as he found the flyer. “From the massacre,” he added, as if the way Jesy’s hands started to tremble wasn’t indication enough that she understood his meaning.

Her mouth dropped open, her eyes seemingly glued to Harry’s face.

Harry added, “That’s why the police would be interested.”

“I see,” she said, lips still parted. “I can’t believe I didn’t-- They didn’t tell me, someone should’ve told me, shouldn’t they?” Her head turned slowly, and she looked over to Louis, as if he could respond, as if he could explain why she didn’t know.

He said, “They wanted him to have privacy. Thought it would be safer, too, to not announce it.”

“They thought they had the guy,” Harry said, and Jesy’s head snapped back at him.

“Don’t-- Don’t they?” She asked. She’d undoubtedly have heard of Carlos’ arrest when it had happened; it’d been splashed over all the local papers. Of course she’d taken it all at face value, as they all had. They’d all wanted the matter to be dealt with. For it to be so simple as a jealous ex-lover, and for no one else to have to worry.

“Well, the perp probably left this on Harry’s door. So, no, I’d say they don’t have the guy,” Louis countered with a dry, matter-of-fact tone. It was enough to snap Jesy out of her daze, and get up to call up the building security.

They waited in silence for security to get upstairs, Jesy biting at her knuckles, having handed the flyer back to Louis, not wanting to touch it. Harry kept staring at the frozen pixels on the TV screen.

 

≈

 

The talk with the security staff was brief. Jesy had insisted that they would need all the visitor logs and security camera footage from the previous night, and informed them that it'd probably have to be passed on to the police. Since the security guards appeared at her door, she’d managed to slip back into control. Having been trained on how to de-escalate matters, she seemed to be less nervous while following that script.

The police were next on Jesy’s call sheet, and they actually sent over two uniforms to speak with Harry and Louis immediately. They were separated, and asked to leave personal statements, although Harry felt like there was nothing he could say that would be of help. There was nothing for him to say other than he just found the flyer on his door, and thought it was just the same as what was on everyone else’s door. Nothing he or Louis could tell the cops would help them figure out who left the threat. And how could they when they couldn’t even figure out who attacked Harry in the first place?

This feeling of despair and meaninglessness seemed to have permeated each of Harry’s limbs, and he was drained when the officer left. Waiting for Louis to be done, he remembered the abandoned bowls of noodles in his room. His stomach cramped at the thought of eating right now, but he knew from experience that he needed to eat.

The police had suggested that Harry not stay in his own room--although they didn’t seem particularly concerned about where he should go instead--but swinging by to pick up their food and a change of clothes would be fine. Especially with Louis by his side, fingers threaded with his.

“I think we’ve rattled him,” Louis said while he watched Harry collect the books he would need for the next day, and a change of clothes. Louis, himself, picked up the bowls of ramen as he waited.

“Yeah,” Harry responded. He hadn’t noticed how tense he’d been until the tension drained from his chest. It was still there, in his shoulders, in his hips. But his chest felt a bit lighter from knowing that he’d be able to stay with Louis.

They headed back to Louis’ room, and ended up eating their noodles on Louis’ bed. Harry slowly warmed up again. His legs were flush with Louis’, and he could hear him slurp his noodles carefully.

Once they’d finished their meals, Louis seemed to get serious, saying, “I don’t think we can wait to hear back from Ed about his friend.”

Harry didn’t quite get what Louis meant, the words bouncing around as Harry tried to make them fit the puzzle. Why wouldn’t Louis want to hear from Ed anymore, unless--

“You think Ed has something to do with it?” Harry asked, his grip around Louis’ arm tightening. He hadn’t even made the connection to their visit with Ed, too shocked from the inherent threat on the flyer.

Louis shook his head, rising up and folding his legs onto the bed. He sat close, as close as he could, to Harry, and it was helping calm him down. “He knows how to spell my name. And that had to be an honest mistake. Would be much more terrifying if they got it right, yeah?” Louis asked and Harry nodded along without thinking. Even as Louis reassured him, there was a pinch between his eyebrows, as if he didn’t quite believe himself.

Louis licked his lips before continuing, “Someone must’ve seen us outside his office and figured out the Carlaw connection. They knew we were getting closer, and wanted to scare us off.”

“So what-- what are we supposed to do?”

“I have to go there. Go to the university and just-- look through archives on my own.” Louis got up to discard of their bowls and spoons, returning to bed with intent. He laid down, pulling Harry closer to him.

“Just you?” Harry asked. Louis wanted to go alone? “What about me?”

“It’s probably best that you stay where you can be supervised--” Louis started, and Harry laughed at him, a loud, boisterous, bitter laugh.

“And you shouldn’t be? Neither of us should be alone, Lou. And I can’t just let you work on this alone when I’m--” Harry choked on a laugh that sounded more like a sob, “--I’m the reason you’re even on this psycho’s radar. You need my help. I need to help,” Harry finished, desperately.

Louis seemed to consider Harry’s sincerity, his gaze intent and darting. He clasped both of Harry’s hands between his own. His voice lowered, when he finally spoke. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

A bittersweet joy settled in Harry’s chest, and he smiled sadly. “All the more reason to keep me around, isn’t it? No one will be able to ‘supervise’ me like you. You care more than they do.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Louis said. And, really, Harry had expected more of a fight to convince Louis that he should come along. All he could think of was that it meant Louis was also somewhat shattered by the threat. Even though he managed to seem more collected while speaking with Jesy, and handling Harry, the reality of their situation must’ve snaked along Louis’ spine, as well.

As long as it meant Harry got to stick with him without facing too much protest, Harry was grateful for it.

 

≈

 

As soon as they’d decided a plan of action on how to proceed, Harry offered to borrow Gemma’s Volvo for their trip. Neither of them were old enough to rent a car, but driving was the most convenient way to get there. Taking the train or two buses was inconvenient, and felt like a waste of time.

“You sure she’ll let you borrow it?” Louis asked, skeptically.

“I’m on the insurance, so there’s no reason for her not to,” Harry said. He didn’t add that they’d most definitely tell her the truth about what they needed the car for. He couldn’t imagine himself lying to her.

Still, he didn’t mention why he wanted to have brunch with her, despite her apprehension. He just said he wanted to introduce her to Louis. Not that it was entirely a lie, he did want them to meet, but it was nowhere near the truth as to why they were meeting now.

They didn’t wait long, Gemma had received her mimosa while Harry and Louis sipped at their coffees. That’s when Harry blurted out that they wanted to borrow her car.

Gemma’s eyebrows shot up immediately. She’d been eyeing Harry and Louis just as soon as they’d met because they’d failed to keep their hands to each other. There was nothing inappropriate about it, but when they were seated, and Louis slid his arm along the back of Harry’s chair, Gemma looked slightly scandalized. It probably didn’t help that Harry was trying to press down a broad smile, and keeping his knee pressed against Louis’. She seemed to suspect something else was going on.

“You’re not allowed to elope without advance notice, and brunch doesn’t count,” she commented, gesturing with her fork between the two of them.

That would’ve been the perfect time to correct her, to explain that they had been investigating the massacre, and now they needed her car to complete their research before Harry or Louis got attacked themselves. And Harry did want to correct her, he did, but her comment made Harry’s face catch aflame at the suggestion. There was a nervous fizzle in his belly at the idea that she could see them like that. But, “That’s not what it’s for,” was the only response he could muster.

“We need to get to Carlaw, but there’s no good public transit to get there.” Louis looked to Harry, urging him to continue. As if he’d figured out that Harry wanted to tell her the full truth, and encouraged Harry to share. He probably felt guilty about using her car without letting her know what it was for. Just like he wanted Zayn to know what was going on if he was going to assist. This would involve her, even the slightest bit.

Still, all that came out of Harry’s mouth was, “We’re looking into their grad programme. Louis might apply, so, so we need to research it.” It was the same lie they’d slipped Ed, and it rang true as Harry said it. As if in some alternate reality, that was actually all they were doing. He slipped into that role, that version of himself so easily it should’ve alarmed him. Instead, it just gave him the strength to meet Gemma head on.

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Gemma asked, apparently unwilling to let go. “ _Research_? Don’t think I can proudly sponsor such a sad excuse for a romantic getaway.”

Harry shook his head. He bit his tongue, before speaking, “No one’s saying you have to be proud about it. But I distinctly recall Mom saying we had to share the car when we could. That’s why I’m on the insurance.”

“But Mom doesn’t know you want to go out of state,” Gemma pointed out.

“Mom’s not going to know,” Harry corrected, but it had the intonation of a demand. Gemma pursed her mouth at that, and Harry felt the need to elaborate, “Since I’m not telling her. She won’t know.”

It seemed to work, somehow, his insistence, and Gemma shook her head. Her eyes cut to Louis before she spoke. “You're the only one allowed to drive, please, that rule you have to follow. We don't have your Veronica Mars boyfriend on the insurance.” She turned to Louis, “Not that I don't trust you but… “

“You don't trust me with this.”

“Need some receipts first,” she said, and Louis nodded his acknowledgment.

Gemma didn’t protest when Harry insisted that they pay for her meal, and the way her eyes kept cutting between Harry and Louis made Harry even more secure in his decision not to tell her all the details. If she was already this overprotective when she thought Harry was just going on a weekend getaway with his boyfriend, there was no way she could handle knowing the very real danger they were both in.

It was bad enough that she didn’t trust Louis to drive her car when Harry trusted him with his life.

“You didn’t want to tell her?” Louis asked, once they were on their own again, and Harry had to shake his head. The car keys were burning a hole in his palm.

“I couldn’t worry her like that.” It was as simple as that. And the thought of telling her made it all the more real. The longer he and Louis could get away with investigating on their own, the better.

And it’s not like Gemma knowing would help them. If anything it would stress Harry out to know that she was at home, most likely refreshing the news non-stop, and itching to tell their parents.

“My mom knows,” Louis said, which wasn’t something Harry expected to hear.

Harry’s eyebrows pinched together. “How-- I mean, when? How much does she know?” Harry wasn’t even sure what he was asking exactly.

Louis seemed to understand, though, “Nothing about you. She knows you’re helping me but that’s it. She doesn’t know it’s your case, ” she reassured,

“Oh,” Harry said, chest deflating and relaxing. Right, of course.

“She’s my best friend, you know? She’s always been there, and she was there all the other times I’d get some harebrained idea ,and just--” Louis interrupted himself, “And she knows I care about you, a lot, she knew that already,” he added.

Harry inhaled sharply, and the words stuck in his throat. “You care about me a lot?”

Louis shoved his shoulder playfully before letting himself get pulled into an embrace. “Of course, silly. She kept telling me to just say something, that she was sure it would work out.”

“It would’ve,” Harry confirmed, rubbing his hands down Louis’ back. They were leaving in the morning, and they should be sleeping already. But here they were, just talking, in the dark.

“I wasted a lot of time, huh?” Louis asked, and squeezed Harry’s middle.

“We can just make up for it,” Harry teased, rubbing his nose against Louis’.

 

≈

 

It had been a while since Harry had been in the driver’s seat for a long trip-- three hours or so to go before they got to their motel-- which is most likely why he noticed that a car was driving awfully close to them. All he could tell was that it was a boxy gray Ford. He was on hyper alert, and had noticed it for a stretch of the road. But it seemed to be creeping closer with each glance in the rearview mirror.

Harry frowned at the sight, fingers going pale as he clutched the steering wheel. Louis must’ve noticed his discomfort, as he twisted in the passenger seat to take a look at what Harry was staring at.

“Why don’t you just wave him on? He can pass us if he wants to go that fast.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. It made sense, so he tried to slow down incrementally as he lowered his window and stuck his arm out, indicating for the car to go past them. There was plenty of room up ahead; if Gray Ford wanted to get ahead, it was as good a time as any.

Harry had to signal twice before Gray Ford seemed to get it, signaling that they’d be changing lanes. Harry breathed a sigh of relief as it passed by them, and noted the ‘Baby on Board’ sticker on the back.

It didn’t seem right, rushing somewhere so desperately when you had a child in the backseat, but aside from that, the relief of not being boxed in on the road was far too great for Harry to pay too much attention to it.

“Did you tell Ed that we left? In case he got back to you?” Harry asked, a thought passing about the study session with him that he’d be missing while they were at Carlaw.

“No, he doesn’t need to know where we are. It’s better if fewer people know, probably.” Louis shifted minutely in his seat, the edge of his thumb catching on the seat belt.

“It’s not--” Harry had to stop himself to gather his thoughts. Louis had already said he didn’t think Ed was involved, but Harry still wasn’t sure if that was just Louis trying to give Harry some peace of mind, or if he really believed it. A niggling thought was at the back of his head, and he asked, “You said Ed knew how to spell your name. Does he?”

Harry didn’t have to look at Louis to catch the way he shifted in the passenger seat. He’d folded one of his legs under his other thigh, leaned against the window. He spoke on an exhale, “I don’t know. I never spelled it out for him.”

Harry absorbed the information, his palms steady on the steering wheel. They had to take an exit up ahead, and he started signaling, movements automatic and smooth.

He couldn’t process it, was the thing. He didn’t think Ed would do anything-- Ed, who’d bought Harry his first illicit pint with a wink, who was always making people laugh in study sessions, putting them at ease to ask the stupidest question they could think of. How could that be the same person who broke into his house? His height and stature felt wrong too; Harry had stood face to face with the killer, after all. Even covered up, he didn’t look like Ed. Unless Harry's own memories were playing tricks on him.

Harry didn’t recognize his voice when he asked, “You think it could be him?”

“No, I still don’t think it’s him,” Louis’ answer came quickly. “That’s not why I’m not telling him where we are. It’s just-- It’s irrelevant. We weren’t going back to his office, anyway. He was gonna put us in touch with someone, and be out of the equation then.”

“Why did you lie? You said he knew,” Harry said, sticking to that detail.

This time Harry did have to look at Louis, the silence stretching between them like a strained rope. He had his tongue stuck between his teeth, the corner of his mouth slumping downwards. “I panicked.”

“You panicked? You-- You didn’t seem panicked.” Harry tried to recall Louis’ face, his demeanour. He’d taken charge, he’d known to try and preserve any potential fingerprints or traces, and to go to Jesy right away. He managed to de-escalate the manner without screaming or breaking down. How did that fit with him panicking?

“I don’t--” Louis heaved a sigh. He moved to grab at one of Harry’s hands, pulling it in between them. Harry stayed focused on the road, but even without looking at Louis, the warmth and weight of his hand seemed enough to read his emotions. “When you asked if it could be Ed. The look on your face, Harry-- I couldn’t let you think that. The spelling was the first thing I thought of. And if he’s looked me up in any class lists, he’d know. He might know how to spell it.”

“You were trying to protect me?” Harry asked, the concept so foreign. “I told you, I didn’t want to be-- I don’t want you to lie to me to calm me down.” Harry’s frown was settled, and his hand stiff in Louis’ grasp.

“I know-- I’m. I don’t think it’s him, I swear.”

“But it could be,” Harry insisted. He didn’t want Louis to parse his thoughts, didn’t want him to hide anything.

“There’s a very slim possibility, yes. But he was quite young when the double homicide happened. And he doesn’t match your recollection of what the perp looked like.”

“My account is just… it counts as eyewitness testimony, doesn’t it? That can’t be trusted.” Harry didn’t want it to be Ed. But he had to consider all of the possibilities, didn’t he?

The car rocked minutely and their breaths were the only sound filling the car. Louis pulled back into himself on his seat, absentmindedly picking at a rip in his jeans. “If it’s him, then there must be something at Carlaw he doesn’t want us to see. So whatever it is, we’ll know,” Louis sounded resolute, determined. Harry could only hope that he was right.

“Can you let me in on what you’re thinking? Just, about everything,” Harry asked. He watched the other cars speeding past them, the bright trail of tail lights up ahead. He was ready for this conversation, he realized. He was prepared to listen to, and file away, any information. That he could even consider that Ed might be guilty was progress, in a sense.

“Well,” Louis gathered his thoughts, “I did wonder if Carlos could’ve left the flyer.”

Harry frowned, and said, “I thought you didn’t think he had anything to do with the attack?”

“I don’t think so, no. But the flyer is a separate matter.” Louis scratched at his chin. There was a hint of stubble roughing up his profile, he must’ve not have had time to shave.

“But why? Why would he care about me, about us, if he didn’t kill the others?”

“He could think you're the reason he got arrested in the first place.” Louis was turned his way with an eyebrow cocked, as if it was an obvious assumption.

Harry blinked. He hadn't even thought of that. Sure he'd mentioned Carlos during one of his interviews, but he didn't think he was the reason they arrested him. “But they would've found him anyway, wouldn't they? Vicky's colleagues would've pointed the finger at him, too. They would’ve known that he was bothering her.”

Louis shrugged. “The mind isn’t always logical, you know? They probably talked about you a lot in questioning, they might’ve suggested that you singled him out. Because if he’d done it, mentioning you, the one who got away, would be a sure way to get a reaction out of him.”

Harry had been in an interrogation room of his own. He knew Louis was right; they could’ve told Carlos anything. Especially if it meant they’d get a raw, unfiltered reaction.

Louis continued, “And he’d fit right in on campus; he probably has a student card. No one would’ve looked twice if he walked into the dorms, and started putting flyers up.”

“So you think the security tape will solve the case?”

Louis nodded his head sideways, as if in thought. “I think what we’ll find at Carlaw will be more important. But the cops-- they still needed to know that there’s been a threat. However small they might consider it. Maybe it’ll wake them up, remind them they don’t know everything.”

“Right,” Harry said, and he meant it. Louis was right.

Once they crossed the toll bridge and the state lines, Louis itched to stretch his legs, one of them bouncing restlessly. They only had about a two hour drive left, but Harry could use a piss as well, and he wasn’t going to turn down any semblance of fresh air.

They were lucky enough that a shoulder was in sight, and Harry pulled over. Louis nearly leapt out of the car, shaking out his legs and sighing loudly. Harry followed, and stumbled a ways down the ditch before succumbing to his bladder. It was dark already, and they wouldn’t be that visible from the road, but he still wanted to avoid being seen if possible. There was a strong chill in the air, and he tucked himself back into his pants with a hiss. He still felt unusually calm about the situation he and Louis were in. Perhaps that flyer was the kick in the ass he needed to fully detach and observe things objectively.

They’d terrified whoever it was. That was a good sign. And the two of them were together.

“Looks like someone ran out of gas,” Louis commented, pointing out a set up emergency triangle with a flapping paper attached to the top, as Harry stalked back to the car.

“I don’t think Gem keeps any gas cans around.”

Louis hummed, rolling up his window as Harry got settled back into the driver's seat.

It didn’t take them long to come across the car that needed gas. The driver must’ve gotten out and walked to the shoulder of the road to drop off the warning triangle and sign, hoping that if someone stopped, they’d take the time to read it. And hopefully, they’d be equipped with some spare gas cans and the time to drive by a station for them. Harry couldn’t help but take a long look, feeling sorry for whoever was there being stuck in the road. The car looked a bit familiar, a little like the Ford that sped past them earlier in their journey; being in a rush seemed to have backfired, as they’d probably end up at their destination even later than expected.

 

≈

 

The cheapest lodging option that provided parking was a motel in the middle of renovations on the outskirts of campus. “Must’ve been used a lot for families dropping their kids off at school at the start of the year,” Louis commented, as he slammed the door shut behind them.

Louis only had a shoulder bag lightly packed with a change of clothes and all their pertinent notes, but he still dropped it to the ground like it weighed a ton before launching himself onto the bed. He rolled onto his back and spread his limbs as he dug his heels into the mattress.

“I really do think this is the biggest bed I’ve ever been on,” Louis said, tucking his hands behind his head, tugging at a pillow and using it to prop his head up. It was difficult for Harry to tear his eyes away from Louis as he lay prone; not just because the room was sparse and uninteresting, but also because of the way Louis blinked and sighed, as he presses his head back into the pillow.

“Not even your mom’s?” Harry asked, trying to remain neutral as he pulled out their stacks of papers and laptops, and pushed them onto the desk across the bed. Louis looked so pleased to be horizontal, Harry longed to be there with him. But he knew if he joined, he wouldn’t get up ‘til morning. The stress of their trip finally settled heavily into his bones, his body aching with the need to be knocked out cold for at least ten hours.

Louis shook his head against the pillow. “No, if the bed was this big, my mom would’ve had all of us sleeping with them every night. She ran a tight ship.”

“How many’s all of you?” Harry asked, curiously,

“Grew up with four sisters,” Louis said, mouth twitching. He angled his face towards Harry, looking at him in a way that invited him to join Louis on the bed.

“No wonder you get bored so easily. Must’ve been a lot going on all the time.”

“Mhm, it’s always busy being home. Coordinating soccer practice drop offs and playdate pickups, and babysitting and picking movies everyone can watch.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”

“‘M the oldest, it’s what we do,” Louis said, with something that looked like a shrug. “Means I’ll be plenty prepared when I’ve got my own, you know?”

Harry swallowed and nodded along, his tongue nearly stuck in his mouth as he said, “Bet you have loads of stories.” Maybe a shower would be good way to cool off and wake up, stop daydreaming.

“Can tell you some if you wanna cuddle,” Louis suggested innocently, and Harry shook his head.

“I think I’m going to shower. Need a bit of a wake up. You can nap, if you think that’ll serve you better,” Harry said, as he pulled at one of the towels that had been left folded at the foot of the bed.

“Alright,” Louis said, but it was so weak, Harry could swear he probably fell asleep already.

He didn’t bother closing the bathroom door as he stepped inside, and got undressed. If the bed impressed Louis, the shower was impressing him. It didn’t disappoint as he stepped into it, the water pressure being steady, and the temperature easy to control.

Harry let out a long breath, the steam clearing out his airways. It sounded a bit like a moan to his ears, but he couldn’t help himself. As much as he appreciated Louis letting him use his ensuite bathroom, that shower needed some getting used to. He could spread his arms out without knocking his elbows against the wall, and the spray could easily be angled high above his head, pouring over the crown of his head, and sluicing over his collarbones and shoulder blades.

“You could fit two people in here,” he commented to himself. He must’ve been louder than expected though, since he could hear Louis shuffle in the other room.

Louis called out, “You say something?”

“Yeah, I-- this shower’s just really nice,” Harry raised his voice, shouting towards the open door.

“Oh yeah? You should hurry up then so I can get my turn,” Louis spoke, and his voice sounded near, so much nearer than Harry expected. He pushed the shower curtain aside, nearly expecting to be faced with Louis on the other side. Of course, he wasn’t there, no doubt standing outside the door, respectfully keeping out. But Harry wouldn’t mind for Louis to step inside.

“You can come in,” Harry said, still with a bit of the curtain pulled aside.

The door opened further, little by little, and soon Harry was faced with Louis leaning against the door jamb, teeth worrying into his lower lip. The curtain was transparent enough that Harry’s general shape was visible, and he caught Louis’ eyes skimming over it before turning towards where the faucet and taps should be. That, he definitely couldn’t see through the curtain.

“It definitely does look big,” Louis said, rocking back on his heels.

“It fits two, at least,” Harry said, his face heating up. There was already a low thrum of arousal gathered in his groin, awoken from hearing Louis’ voice in the first place. He hoped he was reading the situation correctly.

“Does it?”

Harry nodded and blinked at Louis, waiting for his eyes to meet Harry’s. When they did, Harry licked his lips, and tugged the curtain further, creating an easy opening for Louis to step inside.

“Are you--” Louis bit his lip before releasing it, mouth puckering “--you want me to join?” Louis asked, the last word getting oddly strangled, his voice high pitched.

“Wouldn’t want to run out of hot water, would we?” Harry commented, trying to sound casual. He could feel goosebumps along his back as Louis laughed in response. As the hiss of clothes being taken off and landing on the floor registered, he lathered up more soap in his palms, fretting at being inches away from a wet, naked Louis.

Harry turned around when Louis stepped into the shower. He had to swallow down his nerves. They’d already seen each other nearly naked when they’d gone swimming, but this wasn’t the same. There was intent behind the way Louis reached to stroke Harry’s jaw. With the way Harry couldn’t help but glance down at Louis’ exposed groin, the way his cock bounced with each of Louis’ steps forward.

“Need help with your hair?” Louis asked, and Harry nodded. He turned around, and tentatively backed closer to Louis.

“You should enjoy this water pressure,” he said, and, with slippery fingers, pulled Louis closer to the water stream. Louis laughed as he pressed forwards, his hips now flush with Harry’s ass. This was totally fine.

Things were still fine when Louis, now doused in hot water, started shampooing Harry’s hair. Things were fine until he started to tug at Harry’s hair in just the right spots, eliciting an uncontrolled groan from Harry.

“Y’alright?” Louis asked, and Harry could practically hear the way his mouth turned down at the corners, making his vowels strained.

“Yeah, it just--” Harry swallowed. “Feels really good.”

“Yeah?” Louis’ massage continued, and Harry nodded along. He couldn’t help himself, rubbing his ass back against Louis’ groin to indicate just how much he enjoyed it. Louis seemed to get it when his hands dropped to Harry’s hips, fingers digging into his flesh. “Oh.”

“Mhm,” Harry continued, licking his lips. He was half-hard, and Louis hadn’t even really touched him. From the way Louis’ cock poked at Harry’s thigh, he knew he wanted to. “You can--” Harry started, and that was enough for Louis to drop one hand farther down, cupping Harry’s cock.

Harry hissed at the contact, and braced himself against the wall. The last thing he wanted to do was slip and injure them both, especially when they were just getting started.

Louis’ grip around him was firm and steady, pulling at Harry’s cock as Louis mouthed along the crest of Harry’s shoulder. His teeth nipped occasionally, and one long suck that Harry was sure would leave a bruise.

Not that it mattered. He was hot all over, thighs tensing with each pointed swipe along the head of his cock. He could feel Louis hard behind him as well, he wanted to see him-- wanted to taste.

“You’re so fucking hot, Harry,” Louis said, sounding reverent as he pulled off Harry’s skin with a smack. “Can’t believe you. Feel like you fit right in my palm,” he continued, following it with a particularly pointed squeeze of Harry’s cock.

He went back to kissing along the back of Harry’s neck, face buried in the wet strands of hair. And Harry couldn’t contain himself much longer, the heat of Louis behind him, his words. He kept gasping, and came with a shout, spurting all over the shower controls.

He didn’t hesitate to turn around, wanting to press his mouth against Louis’ as quickly as possible. He pressed so close to Louis as they kissed hungrily, Louis’ still-hard cock pressing against the top of Harry’s hip.

They pulled apart with a slick smack. “Want to suck you,” Harry said, and Louis shivered. Despite the hot water, his nipples were pebbled peaks, and his tongue was stuck between his teeth.

“Not in the shower, yeah? Seems a bit dangerous,” Louis said, and, as loath as Harry was to leave their little steamed up world, he knew Louis was right.

“Don’t touch yourself, okay?” Harry asked, before stepping out of the shower, managing a long mournful stare at Louis’ erection as he backed out of the bathroom. He knew where to wait.

Louis didn’t take long before he walked back into their bedroom, quickly dried off though his hair was still dripping down his shoulders. He came to a sudden stop when he noticed Harry kneeling in front of the bed, still naked, waiting.

Harry patted the bed in front of him, indicating for Louis to come have a seat. He followed suit, mouth hanging open. He’d barely gotten situated before Harry fit himself between Louis’ legs, thumbs pressing along the seam of his groin. He nosed along his balls, before licking up his shaft and suckling him down.

“Fuck! Harry--” Louis started, but seemed to devolve into strained groans as Harry sucked him down. Harry hadn’t given head in ages, and he couldn’t remember the last time a cock felt so nice against his tongue. There was that clean, freshly showered taste but he could still sense Louis underneath it all. The taste of Louis’ precome flooded his senses, and he took his time working Louis over until he came with a pained shout.

Louis’d tried to warn Harry with a desperate pat on his shoulder, but Harry had wanted to try and swallow it all down. It was satisfying, and he relaxed back on the floor, watching a stunned Louis blinking at him, his jaw slack.

“I’m really sad we only get this shower for one night, if it gets you that excited,” Louis said, clearly trying to ease the mood, and Harry laughed, shaking his head.

“It’s not the shower that did that, it was you,” Harry said, before plunging forward again, and pressing light bites along the outside of Louis’ thigh.

They still had to get dressed and go to campus before turning in for the day, but there was no rush. At least, not as far as Harry was concerned, feeling oddly content and safe on the carpet with Louis’ knee to lean up against.

 

≈

 

Before they could turn in for the night, and recharge for upcoming research, Louis insisted they visit the spot where the attack took place, “To get some perspective,” he’d said. Harry expected to feel some sort of residual energy when they got there; it had only been half a decade, after all. But aside from the bite of the wind, and the heat of Louis’ hand in his, Harry felt nothing.

The attack took place on a path leading from one of the campus buildings off towards a neighbourhood where Kevin and Leah’s apartment was. They’d been studying at the library, and stopped at a nearby food truck for cups of tea. They took the shortcut everyday, and it seemed likely that their study night was routine, as well. This time, however, they didn’t make it home, ambushed from behind the brush of trees that lined the path.

“It fits with our organized killer. Just like he knew when all of you guys would be home, he knew when he could catch these two on the path,” Louis explained, as he stepped into the area where there used to be trees. They’d almost all been cut down, now. There was a streetlamp a couple of feet away, casting a large circle of light at the spot where they stood. Harry had no doubt these were all changes that happened because of the attack. Louis looked around, fingers trailing along the back of a park bench.

Louis said, “The bench is the only thing that hasn’t changed. It was here in the photos.”

“A streetlamp and some tree trimming was the only thing standing between them being alive and not,” Harry said bitterly, and Louis’ gaze cut to him.

“They haven’t been keeping up the work.” Louis pulled at one of the branches that stretched into the circle of light. It looked young and fresh, leaves barely along the stem. Perhaps five years was the amount of time needed for safety precautions to be brushed aside.

They walked along the path twice, once from the area where they knew the apartment was towards the library, and once going back. The food truck wasn’t there anymore, either, replaced by a twenty-four hours Starbucks.

Whatever had happened five years ago wouldn’t have happened now, that much was certain. At least, not on these brightly lit grounds, milling with students.

They stopped at a mini-mart on the way back to the motel , picking up cold cuts and sliced cheese for dinner, as well as cellophane wrapped muffins for breakfast. They also indulged in a carton of chocolate milk that they opened right away and passed between them as they walked back.

Louis commented, “You know, I never asked you why you stayed.” He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and Harry took another swig of milk.

“On campus?” Harry asked. The wind was rougher here than back home, whipping against his uncovered face, and he tried to lift his scarf higher up around his chin. Louis only wore a beanie and his jacket was open. “Aren’t you cold?” He asked, and Louis laughed at him.

“Very, yeah. But it’s the best way to build a tolerance, yeah? Stay exposed?” Louis said, with a shrug. It resembled more a shiver, but if Louis wanted to suffer through it, Harry wasn’t going to get involved. Louis added, “Campus and school, yeah.”

Harry’s breath rattled out of him as he thought. He shoved his fists deeper into his coat pockets. Louis startled him by twining his arm between Harry’s, nudging his chin against Harry’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me, just-- I’m just curious, I guess. Where that strength came from.”

Harry shook his head. He didn’t think of it as strength, really. “Didn’t feel strong, it felt more like-- the least amount of change would be good. And I-- I mean, I worked really hard to get into college. I really wanted to go there. And this guy-- this psychotic _asshole_ already took so much. He took my friends, my house, my sleep--” Harry shook his head, interrupting himself before he ranted on. Louis waited patiently. “I couldn’t let him win, you know? It would’ve been admitting defeat, if I left. Like admitting guilt,” Harry added, thinking of the way the police had eyed him suspiciously, even after they let him go. After their own theories proved incorrect. “Also thought maybe some exposure therapy would work, y’know? I didn’t want the whole state to just-- be this black hole on a map that I couldn’t go to, couldn’t visit, couldn’t think about.”

“Well, it sounds brave to me,” Louis said, sounding a bit choked up. “Couldn’t have gotten this far without you.” Louis must’ve sensed that Harry was going to protest, because he pulled him closer by the arm, so they missed their walk signal. “Hey, no. Don’t deny it. You’ve been-- so vital to the investigation. You have to know that. I probably wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“You mean, you wouldn’t also be in danger.”

“We’re about to go spend the night at a cheap motel with a king-sized bed and king-sized shower. No one knows we’re here. And I’ve got you to shield me from all the wind,” Louis said, ducking behind Harry’s shoulders as another gust hit them. “If that’s what danger feels like, I think I quite like it,” Louis teased. Harry rolled his eyes, but not before pulling Louis close enough for a kiss.

Harry hummed along. He wanted to disagree, but Louis did have a point. Despite the reason for their trip to Carlaw, it did feel like they’d stepped into a brief reprieve. Especially by the time they bundled up in bed, passing the packages of turkey and swiss cheese between themselves, another episode of _How I Met Your Mother_ playing on Louis’ laptop. The blustering cold from outside felt distant, and the imminent fear that the threat had needled into Harry’s gut was easy to ignore while canned laughter filled the room.

“Zayn told me you talk in your sleep,” Harry said, crumpling up the last of his wrapper, and swallowing down the last of the chocolate milk. Louis was leaned back against the headboard, head already lolling against the pillows.

“It only happens when I’m anxious. Too busy holding it all in when I’m awake, I s’pose. Has it been bothering you?” He squinted in Harry’s direction.

Oh. Harry’s chest feels tight, but for all the right reasons. “No, no it hasn’t. Haven’t heard you once.”

“Hmm, must be your good influence, then,” Louis said. He made a move to cover himself in the blankets on the bed, but couldn’t seem to properly do it. Harry took it on himself to gather his trash, and tuck him in. He watched another episode before tucking himself into bed, happy that the only other sound in the room was Louis’ soft snoozing.

 

≈

 

The next day was the day the meat of their work would be done. Louis hoped that would be all they needed -- one day for a good, hard look at the Carlaw Gazette’s archives. But not just their paper archives, Louis wanted to get a hold of all their notes. He had reasoned that they needed as much information as possible, and whatever had been actually printed in the Gazette would be biased and sterilized.

“The notes are what’re going to show actual information,” Louis had insisted. Because they could read all the actual articles, but all that would do nothing but provide them with a bias, apparently.

“They would still be biased, though,” Harry commented, and Louis nodded reluctantly.

“It’s still the most objective we can get. Whoever wrote the piece probably did know them, since Kevin worked the paper; they probably dug deeper because of it. But I bet they didn’t actually publish all the information they got.”

The first step was finding the Gazette offices, which were seemingly tucked away in the basement of the science building. None of the doors down there had any actual signage, leaving them to knock on all of them, patiently waiting for feet to shuffle closer on the other side.

“If they don’t want to be found, they won’t open, though,” Harry commented, after they’d gone through one dud of a hallway. Not a single door had been opened, and the rattling from the pipes above them kept them from listening in on whether anything was going on past the doors.

Louis shrugged. They nearly collided with a girl that came out from what was supposed to be an emergency exit. Her hair nearly reached her waist, and loose strands billowed around her face as she tried to speed past them.

“Excuse me, do you know where the Gazette office is?” Louis asked, reaching out to get the girl’s attention.

“We’re not accepting submissions or pitches,” she said, staring them both down.

“We’re not-- we’re not looking to join the staff,” Harry corrected, and she quirked her head at him. She had expressive eyebrows and wasn’t scared of using them, frowning in his direction.

“Please, I can tell from the way that guy’s looking at my notes that he wants something from us.” She gestured towards Louis, who frowned in protest. He gripped at his bag, pulling it away from his chest.

“Okay, I mean, we want to look at some of your old issues. And the notes that went into that.”

She made a face at them both, but started walking again, and they followed. She headed towards the hallway they’d come from, and she jangled some keys out of her pocket to open a door.

“You’ll have to convince the big boss for that,” she said, dropping her stack of papers on the desk closest to the door. The office was tiny, the walls covered in bookshelves stacked with banker’s boxes, and three desks. The one farthest from the door was inhabited by a guy who seemed way too happy to be stuck in a windowless basement office. He cackled into the phone, expression seemingly just as vivid as if the person he was talking to was right in front of him.

“Who’d that be?” Louis asked, and the girl quirked her eyebrow as if she couldn’t believe the question.

She nodded towards the guy in the back. “Niall, of course.”

Harry had to stop himself from staring at Louis at that revelation. This was going to be a piece of cake.

“Can we just wait by his desk?” Louis asked, starting to step into the office. The girl shook her head, and pushed him out towards the door.

“No, he’s a very busy man, and his conversations are confidential. Who knows when he’ll have a minute to come up for air,” she said on a shrug. Harry’s eyes cut back to Niall, who was now leaning far back in his chair, twirling a pen between his teeth. He definitely did not look like a busy man.

“You can wait across the hall. He’ll come get you when he’s ready.”

“Alright,” Louis conceded, rubbing his hands together.

The girl had left both doors open, so Harry sat himself strategically so he could keep an eye on Niall, and see when his phone call ended. It was probably good for them that they’d be catching Niall in a good mood. All the better to convince him that they should have unfettered access to their archives.

It took about ten more minutes before Niall’s call ended, and the girl stepped up to his desk, gesturing across the hall. Harry took that opportunity to move next to Louis who was sitting just beyond the door.

Niall stepped in with pleasant smile still plastered onto his face and a lilting introduction, complementing Harry on his boots, and asking Louis what college paper he wrote for. “Don’t think I’ve seen a byline by a Tomlinson just yet,” Niall commented, as he took a seat across from them, making himself comfortable.

“I’m still trying to find my voice, so I’ve not quite put myself out there just yet,” Louis said with a tight smile, and Niall nodded along.

“Smart thing to do. Now, Hailee tells me you want to access some of our archives?”

“Yes,” Harry started, getting himself situated back in his chair. “From five years ago? There’s a particular case we’re curious about.”

Niall nodded along, his clasped hands easily folded over his lap. “Mhm, I see.”

Harry pressed his leg against Louis’, a reflexive comforting gesture. He practically expected Niall to get up and lead them into the office, with a wide grin splitting his face.

“That definitely sounds like something we can’t help you with,” Niall announced, and followed it by an apologetic shrug. Harry frowned at the easy way Niall just dismissed them.

Louis persisted, “It had to do with one your staff. An unsolved crime, and we think we’ve got more clues.”

Recognition flickered in Niall’s eyes, and Harry would bet that he had figured out exactly which case they were interested in. Niall’s smiled remained on, but his jaw clenched for a beat. “All the more reason for me to keep it outta your hands, you know,” Niall countered, and made to get up from his seat.

“You can supervise us while we look things over,” Harry suggested, and Niall met him with a smirk.

“That’s not incentive. That’s me wasting valuable time to babysit. A couple of unpublished, untested journalism students from out of state think they’ve solved a cold case from half a decade ago? Right. Sounds very likely.”

Louis got up first. “You must’ve heard of the Pennsylvania campus massacre that happened just-- not even two months back.” He waited for Niall to nod along, just to make sure he was following. “We think that’s the same guy who killed Kevin and Leah.”

Niall sucked in his cheeks at that, tipping his head back so that he hit the wall. “They caught your guy.”

Louis shook his head. “He’s out. There wasn’t enough evidence to press charges. But I’m not surprised that news didn’t travel, it’s not like the cops want people to freak out again.”

Niall gripped his knees, and leaned forward again. “Even so. How’s that relevant to you two? I’m guessing you’re looking for some sort of exclusive,” Niall said, nodding towards Louis. “No one’s going to publish an exclusive from an untested journalist who’s speaking over law enforcement. The police don’t like looking stupid, you know.”

Louis remained silent, but his eyes darted in Harry’s direction. Niall looked between them, eyebrows quirked. “Well? You can’t do anything with what you find. So, what’s in it for you?”

“I’m the survivor.”

Niall’s mouth dropped open, jaw stretching out as he studied Harry carefully. Assessing him.

“You’re the freshman who was injured while the perp escaped?” Niall asked. There was trepidation in his voice, and Harry took the opportunity to roll up his sleeve, the one where his stab wound was.

“Got me on the way out of the house.”

“Okay.” Niall nodded. “And you think it’s the same guy.” Harry and Louis nodded. “They’re still not--” Niall shook his head, rolling his lips into his mouth. “The cops are still not going to just take whatever suspect you gift wrap and hand them. They really don’t like looking dumb.”

“I just-- I want to know, for sure,” Harry said, his insistence clear in his tone.

“We’ll figure out a way to pass on any important information to the authorities,” Louis insisted with more force that Harry would’ve expected. They hadn’t talked about that, had been focused on figuring out who the killer was, rather than what they’d do with the information when they had it. But they would have to go to the police with what they had eventually. Louis continued, “And if we’re right, we’ll give you all the exclusive interviews.”

“You’ll give me the exclusive?” Niall asked, the tilt of his brows and his tone revealing that he thought of that as an empty promise. “I don’t think you’ve got that kind of pull, boys.”

“We can’t give you the story, you’re right about that,” Louis said. “But we-- We don’t have to speak to anyone else from the press. They can write all about the killer, but they won’t hear a peep from us.”

Niall’s eyes widened at the possibility. Harry could tell he was close to cracking. He had to take a chance. Harry said, “You must want to be a journalist if you’re working here, don’t you? Imagine what kind of boost that would be for your career.”

“And with nothing to lose,” Louis added. “If we’re wrong, if we’re just random nutjobs, you’ll never have to see us again.”

“Okay.” Harry’s chest filled with hope as he and Louis were allowed into the Gazette offices. From the look Hailee gave them, she must not have expected that they would get their way.

“Get them whatever they want, yeah?” Niall instructed her before going back to his desk in the corner. “I expect you to behave,” Niall told them.

Hailee offered them the remains of a half-filled pot of coffee, and Harry and Louis split it between the two of them. They were presented with a banker’s box filled with paper and USB drives, and they were left to figure out what was relevant to the case and what wasn’t. Louis claimed the stacks of handwritten notes, claiming to be better at deciphering scrawly handwriting, and Harry was left with the USB sticks.

There was a spare laptop that he could use to look things over on. Most of the saved files were articles from other papers on the homicide, probably to cross-reference the information that they would end up publishing. There was an entire folder of saved web pages, all listing possibly relevant contacts at various news outlets, the police, and the university. Harry briefly wondered how many of the people on those lists were still around, still working, despite the past failure to identify their perp.

Adding more whitener to his coffee, he moved on to another folder. It had a couple of rough drafts of the editorial that the Gazette had run in Kevin and Leah’s memory. One of the earlier versions was more emotional, bringing up Kevin’s multiple accomplishments. One of those being getting one of his stories picked up and referenced in New York Magazine. Another being that he had been assigned the Business beat for his final semester.

Those parts weren’t in the published piece, and it gave Harry some pause. Did the editor consider it too upsetting to include how bright Kevin’s future looked? Or was being so effusive about Kevin while Leah received less coverage making it seem like his loss was greater? Each was bleached of sentimentality, and ended on notes asking for justice. In the print version the only thing that differed was some sentence restructuring and the presence of a byline, Ben Winston.

Harry’s throat went dry, and his tongue felt large and clumsy. Still, he managed to gasp, “Oh, my god.”

He stepped away from his temporary desk, striding over to the bookshelf with all of the Gazette’s old issues. It was easy to sort through them, and Harry pulled out the issue where the editorial ran. He opened it up to the business section, looking for the name of the editor: Ben Winston. He picked up the issue after that one, and a couple more, and in each of them Winston’s name was printed.

Harry started shaking. Kevin had been awarded the Business section, and after he passed, Winston took it over. Which meant he had probably been in the running in the first place.

Louis’ attention was still on him. “Harry? What is it?” He asked, as he approached slowly. He took a look at one of the papers Harry was holding, but of course he didn’t see what Harry saw.

Harry handed one of the papers to Louis, finger jabbing at Ben’s name on the page. “It’s him. Ben Winston. He’s one of my professors.”

Harry watching as Louis checked all the papers, and landed on the editorial that Winston had penned. “He inserted himself in the case…” Louis commented, and Harry nodded along. “He’s the one who started the campaign to clean up the path and install a street lamp,” Louis said, as he read over the editorial. That’s essentially what it was. A eulogy combined with a call to action. By the very person responsible for it.

Harry felt dizzy, and backed himself against the wall. As soon as his back made contact with it, he let himself slide down to a sitting position on the floor. There were plenty of chairs around, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away from his spot wedged against the wall.

“What class is it?” Louis asked, as he set aside the papers.

“That Economics class.”

“He’s the prof you said you needed to impress?” Louis asked.

“Yeah. ‘Cause freshmen aren’t normally allowed to take that class.” Louis’ face fell, and he shook his head. He palmed at his mouth, wiping his hands off on his jeans as he joined Harry on the floor. “He must not like special treatment,” Harry said, and made a strangled noise, an almost laugh that sounded nearly hysterical.

“You earned your spot in that class,” Louis corrected him.

“Just like Kevin earned the Business beat that Ben wanted,” Harry said, and Louis bit his lip. But he nodded. He understood what Harry was saying. Ben had been jealous of Kevin, felt like he was the one who’d deserved that beat. Maybe Harry being in his class every week was a reminder of past slights he’d experienced. “Nate helped me write the letter to get into that class,” Harry said, remembering how confident Nate had been that they could convince the head of the department that Harry deserved a spot in the class. “We were probably both on his radar.”

Louis remained silent, but the way he held on tightly to Harry’s hand let him know that he was being heard. Harry continued, “He must’ve left the note, too. He’s probably the colleague Ed talked about.”

“That’s why he knew about me but couldn’t spell my name,” Louis said, and Harry nodded along.

There were too many coincidences for it not to be him. “He wouldn’t know how to spell your name, either, if he’d just heard it from Ed.”

Louis’ chin tipped forward. “And we asked about the paper specifically. Must’ve really rattled him.”

Harry nodded along. “I had-- I had class with him that day. Kept glaring at me. I thought it was because I wasn’t focused, but he must’ve--” Harry bit his tongue before laughing bitterly. “He must’ve been looking to see if I was scared. He couldn’t know I hadn’t seen the flyer yet, could he? ”

Professor Ben Winston was Ed’s friendly colleague, but also the man who broke into Harry’s co-op, the man who’d stared Harry right in the eyes before taking a stab at him. Who ran through the backyard while Harry discovered the bloodbath inside the house. He was the man who reluctantly taught Harry every week, and also the man who’d scribbled on that flyer and left it on Harry’s door. Winston knew they were interested in Carlaw, he knew that they were on to him. A bolt of realization struck, and Harry shuddered gracelessly, mouth filled with acid.

“He followed us here. That Ford that was trailing us, that stopped on the side of the road. That was him.” Harry had a full body shudder, and pressed his back harder against the wall. There had to be a reason why he saw that car twice. “He probably wanted us to stop for him,” Harry said. “We were across state lines. He could’ve offed us right then by the side of the road, and no one would’ve been the wiser.”

“Harry. Harry, you have to stop. That didn’t happen,” Louis said, trying to be calming, but his voice had taken on a thin tremble. “And we never saw who was in the car. That coulda been anyone.”

Harry shook his head. He’d gotten a glance. When he’d recognized that the car parked by the side of the road was the same one that had been at their heels earlier, he’d taken a long look at the man in the driver’s seat.

It hadn’t been completely clear. But the closely cropped dark hair, and the jut of his jaw... He couldn’t unsee the similarity between that man’s profile and Winston. “Why don’t you ask Zayn. He can probably do that, right? Find car registrations?”

Louis nodded. “I’ll give him a call.”

“Okay.”

Louis squeezed Harry’s arm in acknowledgment. “Why don’t you finish up your coffee, and we can fill Niall in on what we found, see if he’s got any ideas for more details on Winston, yeah? Zayn’s gonna take a bit of time to get back to us, I think.”

 

≈

 

If Niall was shocked that Harry and Louis had narrowed down their suspect to a former staff writer, he didn’t show it. He kept listening to Louis’ explanation, but didn’t speak up, instead clicking into the Gazette’s database and entering Winston’s name to get access to his staff file. It spat out a slew of his bylines, but there was also an extensive list of pitches he’d made that went on to be written by someone else.

“Is that common?” Louis asked, pointing it out.

“Well, sometimes just ‘cause you have the idea doesn’t mean you’re the best suited for the job. We run a bit differently, too; your pitches are always public, so if someone else wants to give your idea a shot, they can. The best article is the one that ends up going to print.”

“Can we see who ended up writing his pitches?”

“Might take some time to go through all of them…” Niall said, mouth twisting.

“Check Kevin’s name,” Harry suggested, and Niall tipped his head at him, skepticism clear on his face. Still, he did the search.

Kevin had fewer published pieces, which made sense, but a good number of them were, in fact, based on Winston’s pitches. It wasn’t enough that Kevin had won the Business beat over him, he’d also continuously outperformed Winston when it came to his very own pitches.

“That’s motive, isn’t it?” Harry said, his voice sounding rough and harsh to his own ears. Louis’ steady hands found themselves on his shoulders, and pulled him away from the screen. “He must've felt like he was being robbed, like he was the victim of some grand injustice.”

“So it’s a serial case? These two and your housemates?” Niall asked, head leaned back. There was a pull to his bottom lip, and his brows were tightly furrowed. He huffed, and shook his head. Like he couldn’t believe Harry and Louis had actually been right.

“You’d need a separate third attack for that. But there might be--” Louis sighed, fingers tugging at this hair. “It might pop up somewhere else. Or a third one would’ve happened, eventually.” Louis didn’t add that if Ben had his way, Harry would probably be the third kill. And Louis, probably. A stark shudder passed over the back of Harry’s neck, and his inhale was sharp enough that Louis’ gaze cut to him.

Niall had turned his way, eyes cast down and his mouth set in a serious line. Louis told him, “I think we’ve seen enough.”

“Yeah,” Niall commented, and went back to looking at the screen, his cursor blinking steadily. “I guess you guys should take my business card. I expect that exclusive when they nail this fucker,” he ended on a an almost snarl.

“It’s all yours,” Louis said, and Niall’s answering nod was curt, knuckles nearly white as he clutched his mouse.

 

≈

 

Zayn had texted Louis to call whenever he had the chance, and they headed back to the motel, with copies of Winston and Kevin’s staff files stuffed in their bags. It made their walk back to the motel more urgent, since Louis wanted them to be in private when they spoke. Harry shivered the whole way back. Each parked car, each car that passed them by, and every sound of footsteps from behind them kept him on hyper alert as he breathed wetly into his scarf.

Winston had followed them here, he could feel it in his gut. But the thought of Zayn confirming Harry’s gut feeling still hollowed him out.

While Louis was on the phone with Zayn, Harry had time to check that the door was locked five times, take a shower, get redressed--down to his boots and jacket--and sat in the armchair, facing the door.

He could still see Louis in the corner of his eye. He was nodding his head, phone pressed against his ear. His eyebrows pinched closer together as he listened to Zayn. “Yeah, Harry said that,” Louis said, and Harry glanced up sharply at the mention of his name. Louis didn’t seem to pay him any mind, thumbnail pressing against the motel notepad.

Harry took the moment to raid through the bag at his feet for snacks. They had a couple of granola bars, and an apple, which is what he opted for. He really wanted a chocolate bar, or a bag of salted nuts. Something to go with his highly strung nerves. The apple would have to do, the crunch and chew of it good enough to distract him, make him think of something else.

When Louis joined him, he was down to the core, and he quickly bit the bottom of the apple, the core crunching between his teeth. Louis nodded, a barely audible, “It’s his car,” coming from his lips.

“I guess there’s no outstanding tickets we can report him to the police for?” Harry asked, wiping his face off of any stray apple juice.

Louis shook his head. He watched Harry finish his apple. “We should head out,” he said, and cracked his back. “We’ve got a long drive back.”

“We’re going back?”

Louis nodded before starting to gather his scattered notes. His hair was kind of a mess, and he pulled his beanie tightly over his head. “There’s nothing left for us here. We need to go talk the cops.”

“There’s cops here. Closer than a four hour drive.”

Louis shook his head. He got on his knees to do a final sweep under the bed. “They don’t know your case here. They’d probably all think we’re pulling one on them. And if Winston followed us here, you bet he’ll follow us there. And since we’ll be stuck in separate interrogation rooms trying to convince the cops that we’re not lying, he’ll have a head start to--” Louis shook his head, making a face. “To get rid of whatever shit might incriminate him. Fix an alibi.”

Harry hadn’t thought of that, and he found himself nodding along. “I guess if he follows us all the way back, that’s even more evidence, right?” Harry asked, and Louis nodded.

“Yeah. If we can get a photo of him behind us, even better.” Harry didn’t like the sound of that, didn’t like the idea of having Winston close enough them that they could take a photo.

Louis must’ve sensed his hesitation, pulling at Harry’s sleeve before they headed out the door. “As long as we’re in public, we’ll be fine, yeah?” He reassured. Harry wasn’t entirely certain that he agreed--Kevin and Leah had been in public, after all--but it’s not like they had much choice. They couldn’t stay in the safety of their motel room forever, and going back to the local police felt like their only feasible option.

It didn’t mean he had to like it.

Louis offered to drive, probably not too eager to put Harry in charge when he’d just been shellshocked emotionally. But driving the car was something Harry could easily control, something he had a grip on. They went quite slowly, Louis leading them on a meandering route. He wasn’t using the GPS set up on the dashboard; instead, his eyes were trained on the road, and glancing at a map on his phone, as if he was taking them somewhere specific.

“Are you trying to shake him off?” Harry asked, and Louis shook his head.

“Trying to make him pop up. The more odd turns we take, the closer he’ll have to stick to us.” Louis twisted in his seat, trying to check behind them.

Still, there was no gray Ford to be seen. It was unsettling, knowing how well he could trace them without even being visible.

“Pull up to the 7-Eleven,” Louis instructed, after he directed them away from the toll bridge on the horizon. He seemed determined, fingers hovering over his seatbelt holder, waiting for Harry to park.

“We’ve still got hours to go, Lou,” Harry pleaded as he watched Louis get out of the car. They were still in public, Harry knew this. They were still fine. But he still had a gaping hole in his stomach, and he followed Louis into the store.

“I just really need to piss. We were in a rush when we left, so didn’t have a chance,” Louis excused himself with a shrug. He went to wait in line for the cash register. “Why don’t you get me a Slurpee while you wait, yeah?”

“You want a Slurpee _now_?” Harry asked. He was caught off guard by a man wearing a motorcycle helmet stepping into the store, and he collided with a chips display. He wasn’t exactly fit to just wait around for Louis in public.

“Yeah, I swear, it’s gonna be the best thing to keep us awake,” Louis said, poking at some of the miniature flashlights that were by the cash register. Almost his turn.

“Okay, what flavor?” Harry asked, knowing full well he really didn’t need a Slurpee to stay awake.

“A bit of all the caffeinated ones, yeah? And the biggest size.”

“Right,” Harry agreed, and headed towards the back of the store where the soda and Slurpee machines were stacked against the wall. He pulled the biggest cup from the holders and started with the Coke, moving down the line of flavors at a quick pace. It wasn’t until he was at the Mountain Dew that he noticed the doors to the toilets were right next to the Slurpee machines.

And he hadn’t seen Louis go into them.

Harry’s throat pulsed with fear as he turned towards the cash register. Louis wasn’t there either. A quick scan of the small store revealed that there definitely weren’t any other toilets he could’ve been using.

Harry didn’t think, fingers cramping around his filled Slurpee cup as he stalked towards the door, noticing that Louis was outside already.

He was walking towards a car that had parked near theirs. A boxy gray Ford.

Harry wanted to call out Louis’ name, but his vocal chords had gone numb. He watched from a distance as a man stepped out of the car and spoke with Louis. Harry couldn’t exactly tell the man’s features from where he was, but he knew, absolutely knew, that it was Ben Winston.

Harry was taking long steps towards Louis, nostrils flaring with each sharp breath, and still he watched in slow motion as Louis turned away from Ben, and walked back towards their car. He had his back to him, fully exposed, and was going for the driver’s seat.

And Winston-- He walked closer to Louis, and the closer he came the harder Harry’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. “Hey!” Harry shouted, unable to stop himself. But neither Winston nor Louis turned around to face him. Harry was nearly blinded by the headlights of a car turninginto the parking lot, only catching Winston stepping right up to Louis and digging his fist into Louis’ side.

Winston stepped back, and Louis collapsed against the car, fist braced against the door handle.

Suddenly, things weren’t in slow-motion anymore. Harry was right next to them, pushing against Winston’s shoulder, moving him away from Louis and shouting at him. He couldn’t control himself, throwing the contents of his cup into Winston’s face.

The multi-colored slush covered his face and dripped down into his open jacket. Harry was on the ground, pulling Louis closer to himself. Louis was muttering something, but Harry couldn’t hear, couldn’t see anything other than the glint of a blade in Winston’s right hand.

“Don’t you fucking come closer!” Harry spat out, but it seemed unnecessary as Winston stumbled away, blinking at Harry, his mouth curled as if he were about to spit something out. His eyes darted between Harry and Louis, and then he turned away, shaking his head to get the slurpee off his face. Harry was torn between wanting to run after Winston as he ran to his car and got inside and wanting to clutch at Louis where he lay.

The ringing in Harry’s ears was pierced by the sound of Winston’s car engine coming to life. It backed away erratically, speeding off in the direction of the toll bridge.

Harry didn’t even think to follow him, too preoccupied with Louis’s weight in his arms. He was still warm, still moving, which meant he had to be alright, didn’t it?

“M’ fine,” Louis seemed to mutter, rambling, no doubt.

“You’ll be fine,” Harry told him with as much conviction as he could muster, trying to keep Louis steady, and keep him talking as his fingers fumbled for his phone. Louis was clutching what looked like a bike light, the flashing red light piercing Harry’s field of vision as he dialled 911.

 

≈

 

If Harry pressed his forehead against the wall of the elevator as it jerked to life and traveled up the chute, he could feel the vibrations in his head. It was among the few times he’d managed to completely quiet his mind and allowing his skull to vibrate and letting tremors spread down his neck and to his shoulders.

But he couldn’t do that with Gemma here, lest she think he’d lost it; she already seemed to think he was halfway there. So instead, he tightened his grip around the brown paper bag filled with deli sandwiches that he was carrying. She was holding a tray with coffee drinks, and a bag of sodas. He and Gemma had been sent on a mission to actually find good food, since Louis had been complaining that his pregnant mom deserved better than what was being served in the cafeteria.

Since it was one of the few times Harry and Gemma had had alone since she’d met up with them at the hospital, he’d expected an earful from her, but she remained silent, which made Harry even more uncomfortable. Gemma hadn’t been thrilled that he’d called and told her she’d have to pick up her car from the police because it had been at a crime scene. Her annoyance had quickly morphed into anger when she realized the reason Harry left the car was because he was calling from a hospital. That he hadn’t gotten hurt didn’t seem to pacify her in the slightest, and she’d been on a warpath ever since, delivering multiple guilt trips as soon as she’d met up with Harry in the hospital.

And now she refused to leave, insisting on not letting Harry out of sight until Louis was discharged, a day that was fast approaching. He should’ve been excited about going back home, except he wasn’t returning to Louis’ familiar double room, or even his own slightly claustrophobic, but comforting single. No, he and Louis would part ways at the front of the hospital and be taken to their respective family homes for Thanksgiving break. He wasn’t ready to walk away from Louis yet, not even for just a week.

“I still don’t get how she’s so calm,” Gemma muttered with a sigh, shoulder squaring up against the wall.

They’d returned to Louis’ room just in time to catch his mom, Jay, doting over him. She was fussing with his sheets, while he seemed to be protesting, gesturing for her to take a seat by the window.

“She knew about most of what was going on,” Harry said, a sleep-deprived slip that he immediately regretted when Gemma pulled him aside so she could lay into him.

“You’re telling me that Louis told his mother that you guys were going after a psycho. And you couldn’t tell me, your sister, whose car you borrowed to get in this mess in the first place?!”

“It’s not the same thing. I didn’t want to worry you.” He could feel a headache budding at the back of his head. He knew immediately that it wasn’t the right to say.

“I mean, yeah, sure,” Gemma said, sinking down into one of the torturous chairs by the door. “It’s not like you called me from the fucking ER, or anything. Maybe some worrying was in order.”

“I didn’t call from the ER,” Harry corrected, and Gemma laughed.

“Oh, sorry, right, you waited until Louis was in surgery because that’s when you remembered my car was sequestered. Much better.”

Harry was saved from Gemma’s second wind by Jay calling them into the room, having noticed them after taking a break to walk around the room, proud pregnant belly in front, and hands splayed along the small of her back. It made him nervous in a different way, the way she warmly smiled at them both as they joined her in Louis’ room, how she was trying to put them at ease while she was trying to walk off her cramps.

He just still wasn't completely comfortable around her. Knowing how often Louis spoke with his mom, and how much he respected her, Harry wanted to make sure he lived up to her idea of someone worthy of Louis’ time. He’d wanted to impress her with a bouquet of tulips, and possibly even a nice bottle of wine for her to look forward to, assuming he had the time to save up for that.

But instead, their first meeting had happened while he was wearing dirty jeans, scuffed from slumping next to Louis in the parking lot. His eyes had still been rimmed red, and an ugly knot of fear was high and tight in his chest. He hadn’t known who she was when she whirled into the ER, swept past Harry and straight to Louis’ medical charts, but it hadn’t been hard to guess. She had looked like she belonged there, like she knew what she was doing.

She’d been intimidating; a look of determination set on her face as she set about to find the attending on Louis’ case. Harry had nearly cowered into himself, not wanting to interrupt her determined path.

But once she’d been updated, she’d slumped one chair over from him, angling herself in his direction. “Sorry about all that, just wanted to make sure I knew exactly what was going on before--” she’d let out a sharp breath and laughed. “Gosh. Don’t mind me, it’s just a lot.” She waved her hand at her face, as if trying to hold back tears.

“I’m sorry, do you-- I can leave you alone.”

“Harry, right?” She had asked, kindness in her voice.

“Yeah.”

She’d shook her head. “Louis would want you here. You deserve to know what’s going on.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just a bit overwhelming. A lot to process.” She had smiled sadly, her eyes looking drier, and her breathing more even. “Thank you for looking after him.”

“I-- didn’t do a very good job,” he’d said, mouth grimacing. He hadn’t wanted to ugly cry in front of Louis’ mother. But it had looked like that might be happening. “No one would tell me anything--”

“He’ll be alright. They only put him under to make sure there were no major organs injured, and no internal bleeding. He just needs to be stitched up. And taken care of post-op, which I’ve plenty experience with.”

“Okay,” Harry said dumbly.

“Thank god, he was coming home for Thanksgiving break, anyway,” she’d commented, fingers splaying over her belly. “He won’t have to miss any school then.”

“Right,” Harry had said, uneasily shifting in his chair. He hadn’t even thought of that, had nearly completely forgotten that they were on the verge of break. But, of course, Louis’ mom would be the one looking after him. Harry might’ve had some farfetched idea that he would be the one nursing Louis back to health, but that wasn’t realistic. Still, there had been a pinch in his stomach at the thought that he wouldn’t be able to help beyond the stay at the hospital.

She’d been right, of course; Louis had come through the surgery fine, thirty stitches richer. They moved him to a private room at the urging of police, a rotation of them coming through. They hadn’t said much, but Harry had gathered from overheard conversations that they’d caught Winston. He couldn’t bring himself to feel relieved just yet, not while they still asked questions, and took photos of Louis’ healing bruises.

After that, even with Jay being incredibly kind and welcoming, Harry just felt in the way. It got worse when Gemma had joined the two of them, and he was worried that Gemma’s frustration with him would reflect badly, or rub off on Jay. He wasn’t being the most rational, but this was a situation he hadn’t expected to find himself in.

He was willing to do anything for Jay to like him, which included picking up a new jacket for Louis since his was in evidence, scouring the hospital for a chair that would alleviate her back pain, moving her parked car... The list was endless.

So, when they’d asked for a real non-hospital meal, he hadn’t hesitated to drag Gemma out with him. The deli felt like a safe bet, and their bounty weighed heavily in his arms as he and Gemma stepped back into the now-familiar hospital room. It’d only been a couple of days, but still, it felt like theirs. He smiled broadly, before offering, “We brought pastrami, reuben, turkey, and corned beef sandwiches. Some pickles, too. And a side of dijon.”

“Sounds like an amazing spread,” Jay said, and clapped her hands together. Louis started to clear out his tray of the crossword he and Jay had been filling out, making room for Harry to plate their food.

“And I’ve got four regular coffees and fixings, plus some sodas, if you’d rather those,” Gemma said, sliding her tray onto Louis’ bedside table, and leaving the sodas on the windowsill. That’s where she took a seat after picking half a turkey club to nibble on.

Harry should’ve known to expect something from how quiet she’d been, sipping at her coffee and not participating in the conversation. It didn’t take long for her to sigh and mutter, “I just don’t get it.”

“Gemma.” It was one thing for her to be angry with him for not telling her, for being upset that he’d put himself in the line of danger. But it was another entirely to question Jay’s parenting.

“I’m sorry, I just-- I don’t mean to be insulting. How can you just--”

“Let him get into trouble?” Jay asked, with a quirked eyebrow.

“I mean, yeah?” Gemma said, shoulders slumping.

“You don’t have to answer that, please just ignore her,” Harry urged Jay. This was definitely up there among the worst things that could happen.

“It’s alright,” Jay said, with a thin smile and a sigh that ended with her chin tilted up. “A lot of people are curious about it.”

Louis had remained silent throughout, top lip rolled into his mouth. He hadn’t finished his sandwich, but picked at his bread until it fell to pieces. He seemed to be used to his mom dealing with this question.

“You know, he didn’t always tell me things,” Jay said, with a wan smile in Louis’ direction. He rolled his eyes fondly. “He can’t say anything because this is part of our deal. If he gets into trouble, _especially_ if he gets hurt, I get to tell all the sappy stories I want, without any complaints. Isn’t that right, Louis?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, lips still in a firm line. “I’m ready for it,” he said, picking his sandwich back up.

“You see, when he was seven, he started coming home with his eyes all red and swollen. It looked like he’d been crying, but he swore he was fine. The more it kept happening, the more I suspected allergies, but we hadn’t changed anything at home. I switched our detergent, and it kept happening, deep cleaned the house, quarantined the dog from him. Nothing helped. We ended up having to get him tested, and the only thing that got a big reaction was this specific type of hay.”

Her eyes cut to Louis as his cheeks bulged with food. He swiped at his mouth with his thumb. “Now, we didn’t have any hay anywhere at home, and no stables nearby, or farms. So I didn’t understand how it was possible. Until I caught him trying to sneak out of the shed with a bag full of it, leaving a trail of dust behind him.

“One of our neighbours had a few animals in their backyard, a couple of chickens and rabbits in a hutch. It was a popular backyard among children because of it, but the neighbour didn’t quite like their property being trampled on by little feet. They weren’t very nice about much, really.”

“He wasn’t taking care of them,” Louis inserted, and Jay patted his hand.

“I was getting to that, Boo. But yes, the animals weren’t exactly doing their best. The rabbit hutch was nearly falling apart, and they had barely any food or fresh water. Louis had started sneaking in there every day to get them fresh water, and big bunches of hay for them to munch on. And that’s why his allergies were so out of hand. But he didn’t want to say anything because he knew he wasn’t allowed, to go on someone else’s property.

“We had a sit down, Louis and I, to discuss what he was doing, and how we could help the rabbits without breaking the law. We called the SPCA, but they couldn’t do anything because the only evidence of abuse was on private property. And, well, Louis had been taking care of them, so they looked fine to anyone just stopping by. So, we ended getting a jumbo pack of Claritin, and let him go at it.”

Gemma blinked. “You helped him break the law?”

“The letter of the law, but not the spirit,” Jay corrected. “He was doing the right thing.”

“Sometimes red tape gets in the way of that,” Louis interrupted her, and Harry could only silently nod in agreement. They’d never be here if it weren’t for the police messing up in the first place.

Jay continued, “I knew that he’d probably pull something like that again. Do some good deeds and get hurt in the process. All I asked was that I’d be kept in the loop, and I wouldn’t try to stop him. Because at least I’d know what he was up to. _And_ I wouldn’t have to waste time tearing the house apart.”

Louis’ face was still scrunched up, lips puckered tightly. Jay gently pushed the loose strands of hair away from his forehead. “So that’s why I let him. I don’t think I could stop him anyway, even if I tried. But this way, I get to be prepared.”

“Right,” Gemma said, but Harry couldn’t tell if she was convinced or not.

Jay’s face contorted briefly, and she gripped her belly. “Oh, these two are going to be trouble as well, I can tell.” She smiled fondly. She readied herself to get up, hand pressed against her back. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go pick up this one’s prescriptions before we can head home.” She squeezed Louis hand, and if Harry didn’t already know, the scrunch of Louis nose, and the way he ducked his head revealed just how fond he was of her.

“Harry did want to tell you, Gemma,” Louis told her, and she seemed uncertain on how to react.

“Well, he’ll have to tell our parents,” she said, in an attempt to sound stern. “I’m not making that easy on you.”

“I know, I know,” it was all he could say, really. She’d already told him that she expected him to tell their mom and Robin before Thanksgiving dinner, lest he ruin the day, and give their elderly relatives heart problems. He knew he wouldn’t need that long, though. Now that Winston had gotten caught, there was no reason to keep it a secret. It’s not like they were going to put themselves in the line of danger again anytime soon.

Besides, he’d never been good at keeping secrets. The only reason he’d managed not to say anything was because he’d only spoken to his mom during their weekly phone calls, and let her steer the conversation. She’d assumed he was just busy with finals, and he didn’t correct her. As much as Gemma gave him shit, he was still confident he’d done the right thing by keeping quiet. At least now he’d be bringing them good news.

There was a knock at the door, and Harry glanced over to see a uniformed officer just on the verge of stepping inside. They’d mostly been seeing a rotation of Ohio cops, a rotation that had waned when one of them notified them that Winston was under arrest, and they could rest easy. This wasn’t anyone they’d seen these past couple of days, though, this was Mackenzie. The same Mackenzie that had reluctantly handed Harry his personal statement, and returned his belongings.

“Hey,” Harry said, and she must’ve heard the hint of recognition in his voice, because the corner of her mouth turned up, and she waved curtly at them.

“Can I have a moment with these two?” She asked Gemma, who was still perched on the windowsill, and nodded towards Harry huddled up next to Louis. The tray had been moved to the foot of the bed, and Harry had shoehorned his way onto the mattress.

“You’re not allowed to question them without a lawyer,” Gemma said, standing up. She was shorter than Mackenzie, but that didn’t stop her from trying to be intimidating.

“Gemma, we know.”

“I’m not going to question them. I just have some sensitive information to share. They can remain silent throughout, if they want.”

Gemma narrowed her eyes. “I’ll be right outside.” She turned to Harry, and said, “If you scream for me, I’ll come right in.” She emphasized it with a shake of her finger.

“Did they run out of Ohio cops for us to see, or did we scare them all off?” Louis asked, with a stiff smile.

“I think they’re busy working cases they might actually prosecute,” she said, the smug expression in her face not matching her words. She took Gemma’s abandoned seat by the windowsill, and, with the backlight, it was difficult to decipher her expression.

Harry and Louis were both dumbfounded, and after a beat of silence, Harry was on edge and braved a question, asking, “What do you mean, exactly?”

“The Ohio police might be dropping your assault charge,” Mackenzie said, keeping her tone and gaze even, but still the both landed like punches to the throat.

She'd barely finished speaking when Louis interjected, “How?” Harry squeezed Louis’ hand. “How is that possible? We can both identify him,” Louis continued, eyes darting rapidly. “You've got my jacket. And the car! There's blood all over the place. And the clerk-- he saw what happened. You’ve got at least three witnesses, and plenty of physical evidence.”

“Yes, well. It seems we’ve got him on a hook much bigger than this assault. The DA has agreed to let us pursue this case instead. He’ll do more time, and neither of you will have to testify.”

Harry’s heart nearly beat out of his chest as he listened to her. “It’s…?” He started, and Mackenzie seemed to realize the question and nodded.

“It’s our guy.”

“Oh, my god,” Harry and Louis knew that it was him. They’d seen enough evidence, Harry’d been face to face with him twice, the memory alone giving him chills. But having Mackenzie say it out loud was a completely different thing. Mackenzie even being allowed to tell them with such certainty. It was official.

A sob filtered through his throat, and he choked up as he gave Louis his full attention. “Lou--”

“You’re safe,” Louis said, his face crumpling as well. Harry leaned down to give him a kiss, the first real kiss they’d had since Louis had been brought into the hospital, since they’d been hovered over ever since, without a second for themselves. They didn’t care that Mackenzie was watching, didn’t care what she’d think. All that mattered was that they would be fine, weight lifted from their chests, now free to swell with ease.

They pulled apart with a wet smack, and saw that Mackenzie had been looking away. Harry started, “Are you-- Is it okay that you told us?”

“The press release is going out in an hour or so. I knew it might take a while to reach the two of you, since you’re still, well, here. So I offered to come out and inform you.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, sincerely.

“Don’t mind, really. It was a pleasure to come meet the man responsible for getting this guy caught,” she said. She crossed her legs, leaning back against the windowsill. “It's funny that you should mention Harry's car, though--”

“My sister’s car.”

“Right, apologies. It seems Ms. Styles’ car had a tracker. Do you have any idea why he would be interested in your sister, Harry?”

“I-- Is it still there?” Harry started, before Louis interrupted. “You said you didn't have questions.”

“No, it was removed and impounded. It’s nothing official, I was just curious. Especially since the Ohio police told us you’re the reason they caught him at all, Louis,” Mackenzie said.

“I mean--” Louis cleared his throat. “I mean, I guess he would still be out there if he hadn’t assaulted me.”

“Well, I was thinking more of your quick thinking with the bike light. Telling the clerk that he should call the police if you turned it on? That was very clever.”

Louis’ mouth fell open before he snapped his jaw shut. “I saw the car pull up when we were in the store and just-- I was going to warn him that his license plate was obscured. And you just never know when you’re dealing with a stranger, what they might do, you know?” Louis’ lips rolled inward as his mouth stretched into something resembling a smile. “I just had a hunch.”

She nodded along, clearly skeptical. “That's a pretty good hunch, if I do say so. I'm surprised you still said anything if you were that concerned.”

“Yeah,” Louis said, shrugging one shoulder uneasily. Harry was deliberately not holding his breath, trying to act normal. Whatever normal would be in this situation. Louis had always explained that the best case scenario would erase their involvement in the case. And as long as Mackenzie didn't dig deeper they would succeed.

“I suppose it’s not illegal to have a hunch,” she said after a beat of silence, rolling her shoulders as she stood up. “You took a campus tour, right? That's why you were at Carlaw?”

“I suppose it was a bit of an unofficial, self-motivated tour, yeah. They’ve got some great grad programs.”

She nodded along, and then shook her head. “It's just really fortunate isn't it? The way all this came together.”

“I guess.”

“Well, life works in mysterious ways, and all that junk.” She tapped her fingers along the door handle, shoulders rolled back. “Do you want me to let your family back in?”

Harry shook his head. “I think we could use a moment,” Harry said, watching Louis closely. He still couldn’t quite believe it. Both that Louis put himself in harm’s way, and that it had worked. He’d figured as much, when he’d watched him stride towards Winston in the parking lot with a purpose. But he hadn’t realized how well thought out his plan was.

They both let out long, stifled sighs when the door closed behind Mackenzie. Louis pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes.

“I swear, one more question, and I was going to pretend my stitches burst and hit the call button,” Louis said on a breathy exhale.

“I'm sure that wouldn't have raised suspicions at all.”

Louis pouted, “And here I thought you liked my ideas.”

“I don't particularly like the ideas that involve you getting hurt.”

Louis grimaced. “I was hoping when you said you wanted a moment, it was for something more fun than revisiting traumatic memories.” He made a show of clutching his side.

Harry kept his eyebrows raised, and shook his head. “Gemma is right outside, listening in, don’t be ridiculous. And you’re still injured. And you did it on purpose.”

“Ah, right, no macking for the invalid, I forgot.” He steeled his face, serious expression on his face. “Alright, I'm ready for my stern talking to.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “I just want to know what you were thinking.” He scooted closer to Louis. Harry wanted nothing more than to roll on top of Louis, and hold him tight enough that he wouldn't move, just melt against his frame. But he knew that would aggravate his injury so, instead, he circled Louis’ kneecap with his finger, urging him to slide his leg over Harry’s. Louis might've been smaller than Harry, but his thigh was still a sturdy weight against his.

“You're not going to distract me. What were you thinking?”

Louis’ breath was reedy, his heel digging into Harry's calf. “I was thinking that this guy already got away twice, maybe more than that. That he was unhinged. That he was scared enough to break his patterns, and follow us using his own fucking car. He was going to do something, anyway. I just needed to control the situation. It was too good of an opportunity for him to resist.”

It made sense, was the thing. Louis had used Winston’s fear-induced impulsivity in their favor. Still, “What were you going to do if they didn't have bike lights? Or any lights? Or if the clerk had said no?”

Louis didn't hesitate, “I would've improvised.” Harry blinked at him. “I thought you liked my quick thinking.”

“Not when it gets you in trouble.”

“Well, we've got matching scars, now,” Louis teased.

Harry frowned. “You know that’s not romantic, right? Throwing yourself in the face of danger.”

“I guess I’ve got to make it up to you, huh? Good thing I’ve got a week to think of ways how.”

Harry whined, and said, “I don’t want to think about that.”

“Well, we’re leaving tomorrow. Unless Mom figured out a way to convince the doctors she could take over even earlier. Wouldn’t put it above her, to be honest.”

“I’m just gonna miss you.”

Louis linked his fingers with Harry’s, and said, “We’ll still talk, it’s just a couple of days.”

“It’s a whole week. And I haven’t been a couple of days without you since we met,” Harry pointed out, and Louis pouted in response.

“It’s a good thing I’ll have an endless supply of pain medication. Keep the broken heart at bay,” Louis said. If it had been anyone else Harry would’ve thought Louis was teasing him. But Harry knew, knew from the shapes Louis was drawing in Harry’s palm with his finger that he meant it. The way his chin rested on Harry’s shoulder. How he tried to contort himself to get closer to Harry despite the undeniable pain he was in. He knew that Louis would miss him, that his joking was really because he didn’t want to think of them being apart.

“There's always room at the Tomlinson house, but I suspect you'll be locked in a weeklong family therapy session, just telling them everything that happened. Over and over again. If Gemma gets her way, at least. Maybe you should make a slideshow. It’ll save you some time.”

Harry groaned, tongue pressing against his palate. “Probably.”

“I’d invite myself over to witness it myself, but I think your sister would throttle me,” Louis said, and Harry’s mouth twitched with a suppressed smile.

“She definitely would do something. She thinks you’re a bad influence.”

“Me?” Louis asked, in mock outrage.

It wasn't that funny, but still Harry laughed hard enough that he lost his breath. One second he was watching Louis, the lines under his eyes darker than usual but his smile brighter, dry lips and all, and he realized he nearly lost him. The next second it was as if the thought hadn't even hit him, his chest nearly splitting open with relief. He’d fantasized about this, being on the other side of the investigation. But he couldn’t predict just how euphoric it felt, even with all the stress and the lack of sleep. He wanted to climb up to the roof with Louis, and shout at the sky.

“They got him. They actually got him.”

Louis’ responding smile was quirked, and he pressed a kiss to Harry's forehead, wild hair and all. It was barely audible when he said, “We did, yeah.”

 

≈

 

> **DNA LEADS TO ARREST IN CAMPUS SLAUGHTER**  
>  PENNSYLVANIA (AP) — DNA evidence helped find the man authorities believe killed four local college students this October.
> 
> The bodies of Victoria Turner, Alex Rodriguez, Nathan Wills, and Gabriel Peters were found October 5 in the campus co-op where they resided. The fifth student occupying the co-op survived with mild injuries, and remains anonymous.
> 
> According to the Allegheny County Sheriff's Office, Ben Winston, 34, was taken into custody by Ohio police for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. His vehicle was searched in conjunction with the arrest, revealing a first aid kit that contained traces of DNA that could only have been present at the October 12 crime scene.
> 
> Investigators say they're cooperating with the FBI in the hopes of solving more cold cases. Considering the brutal nature of the crime, it seems unlikely this would be Winston's first offense.
> 
> Winston was charged Friday with aggravated assault, aggravated assault and battery, and four counts of first-degree murder. Winston has no prior convictions.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There is a [tumblr post](https://turnyourankle.tumblr.com/post/167304101925/knives-dont-have-your-back-harrylouis) for this fic if you're inclined to share. Let me know if you liked it, and thank you for reading.


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